A Mask of Venice
by Dulcetvoice
Summary: A charge has been presented to the Sheriff of Nottingham and he plans to use it to his advantage. Guy x OC Marian eliminated from story and no information past the second season.
1. Olly, Olly Oxen Free!

Author's Note: Enjoy! (By the way, I'm a sucker for reviews.)

**Chapter One: Olly, Olly Oxen Free!**

A single man is never easy to find in a castle, especially one as large as the one in Nottingham, but when said man is the owner of the castle one would expect that it would make the expedition far easier. However, this was not the case in Sir Guy of Gisborne's search. The search had been going on for so long now that the owner of this large estate might as well have vanished from existence itself at this point!

How long had he been searching? A minute? Two? Ten? The exact measurement of time passed was irrelevant to Gisborne now since he already knew that it-judging by his dwindling tolerance for the situation-was already far too long for such an insignificant errand such as this. Sir Guy had better things to do than to fetch people, running about in what was becoming an increasingly annoying game of hide-and-go-seek. If he didn't have his own reasons for finding him, Guy would have given up long ago. That was why Guy was in such a mad rush to get to him in the first place; the Sheriff needed to handle the strange matter at hand so that Guy could present him with one of his own.

Of course, he couldn't put forward either issue yet. First he had to win this game that still had room to grow evermore noisome, but where to look next? He had already searched in the Sheriff's study, his chambers, the Great Hall, and his office. Where else in Hell could he be? Guy sighed haughtily in obvious exasperation. At this point he would hardly be surprised if the Sheriff really had chosen his hiding place in the depths of Hell itself. Everyone knew his reputation well enough to know that he would probably feel at home in the Underworld and if given the choice would probably spend most of his summers if not all of his time there, but only Guy knew him so well to know that if the Sheriff actually could enter the Fiery Gates, he would probably be plotting to overturn Satan himself.

Still these suspicions didn't help him. Early in life, Guy had quickly learned that there was no Hell and if there was, it could be no worse than the very Hell mankind lived in. He had stopped believing long ago that evil was ever punished and consequently that there could be no fabled place to home its Prince.

So, if the Sheriff was indeed here in the castle and not in Hell then why was it that Guy couldn't find him after so long?

"You!" he called to a passing servant, "The Sheriff. Where is he?"

"L-l-last I checked he was returning to his s-study, m'lord," the meager boy answered in a way that showcased his fear and surprise.

"And when was this?" Guy pressed. He was going to be very irritated if this going-on occurred too recently after he had just checked there.

"I saw him only a minute ago, m'lord," the help told him, trying his best not to cringe away in fear of Lord Gisborne's wrath. This was appropriately done for at hearing the reply to his question, Guy's temper seemed like it was about to explode in a rampage with a lust for violence. However, it turned out to be this boy's lucky day for Guy only clenched his jaw, turned on his heel, and rushed away, forgetting in his haste that the boy was even there and therefore giving his source the chance to live another day unscathed.

However, when Guy finally did come storming into the Sheriff's office to find him sitting at his desk, his head instantly began to cool. Finally! He had found him!

"What is it, Gisborne?" the Sheriff asked nonchalantly and without even so much as glancing up from his note-scribbling to look at his underling, "Make it quick. I am very busy."

"There's a woman waiting for you in the courtyard," Guy announced bluntly.

"There's a woman waiting for me in the courtyard," the Sheriff mocked rather than asked, looking up from his work with a very indifferent expression on his face, "Did you not hear me, Gisborne? I said that I'm **busy**. Tell her to come back another time."

So, he returned to his writing, thinking that that would be the last word about the matter, but Guy would not have it. "We can't tell her to go away," he began to explain only to be interrupted by the Sheriff.

"And why not? Is she deaf?"

"No, sir, but-"

"Is she dumb?"

"No, sir. She's-"

"Is she royalty of some sort?"

"No, but-"

"Well, if she is not deaf, dumb, or nobility then what is wrong with her?"

"She's Italian, sir."

"Italian?" the Sheriff repeated suddenly, actually standing up from his chair.

"Yes, my lord," Guy went on, "At least that's what our best guess is because she has only spoken what we assume to be Italian since she arrived. She has not said so much as a single English word, but she has repeatedly mentioned your name."

The Sheriff dropped his jaw so that his lips formed a tight 'o' as he lightly pressed his tongue to his cheek in thought, something that he did often when given news that was of interest to him. "Italian, you said?" he inquired, going over to the window to look down at the courtyard where he could see a definite feminine form below.

"Yes, sir."

"Wait here then," the Sheriff ordered as he went out and left before Guy could ask any questions.

Guy watched amazed as the Sheriff made a hastened exit. Guy hadn't expected the Sheriff to go so easily. After all he was very busy. He had made a point to convey that within moments of Guy's arrival. Then what had changed his mind?

Guy went over to the window to look out of it and down to the place where the waiting woman was. Beside the fact that she had brown hair and simple peasant garb, there wasn't much that he could see of her, but judging by her exaggerated body language she was neither happy nor calm about having to wait so long. The girl probably didn't even know that help had been sent to find the Sheriff. It was most likely that she wouldn't know of what had been done until she actually saw the man in front of her.

Then, as if on cue, the Sheriff appeared out of the castle doors and into the open space. The guards made way for him, giving the girl the chance to run up to the Sheriff and… hug him?

Guy couldn't believe his eyes! That young woman was actually hugging the Sheriff! What was more amazing was that he returned the embrace! So that was why he had left... He knew her. But how would the Sheriff know an Italian girl that he would greet so warmly?

This was a question which Guy could not configure a single possibility seeing as it seemed to be a near impossibility. In fact, he wouldn't have believed it had he not seen it with his own eyes only moments ago. So he simply gave up on it and pushed it from his mind. There was no point in lingering on a problem that didn't need to be solved. Instead he turned his attention to the room around him in order to occupy his attentions. An assortment of all sorts of collected items surrounded him and none of it was well organized. Noticing this, Guy couldn't help but wonder if his own study would be the same way if he had both a study as impressive as this one and the time to use it.

Here books had been set down wherever there was a horizontal surface, just like papers and other objects had been set down or cast aside. A few pieces of money could be spotted here and there, probably placed when the Sheriff had emptied his pockets or possibly the pockets of others. Even so out of all of these treasures the only pieces of the collection that he found memorable were also the most interesting and bizarre pieces in the collection: the several skulls that the Sheriff kept not only as decorum, but also to hold his false teeth when they were not occupying his mouth. If there was anything that Guy wouldn't want in an office of his it would be skulls to hold his replacement teeth.

Then without any warning, the Sheriff came walking back in so that he nearly made Guy jump from unsuspecting surprise. He hadn't even heard him coming down the hall! "What did she want?" he automatically asked without so much as considering why he would want to know the answer.

"That… was my ward," the Sheriff answered matter-of-factly as he sat back down at his desk and resumed his scribbling, "She is under my care now so I want proper arrangements made so that she will be safe once I present her to the public. I want to keep her as far away from the dangers of our business as possible."

With this news combined with the prior shock he had received, it took Guy a few extra moments to respond to such news. It was information that was most certainly unprecedented and very unexpected yet there the Sheriff sat, speaking of it as if it were no more abnormal than the weather! "Your ward?" Guy repeated as he took a seat, the information's impact so great that he completely ignored the orders just given to him, "I wasn't aware that you had one."

"Well, that was probably due to the fact that I wasn't aware either," the Sheriff snapped, still not even bothering to glance up at his lackey, "Not officially at least. But apparently her mother died a couple of years ago and since I am her godfather I have become her guardian because of it but, as I said, I don't want to make this knowledge known until I am sure that she will be safe from my enemies."

"But what of her father?" Guy pointed out, still paying no mind to the official business, "Surely her father could manage her on his own."

"I'm afraid that would be a little difficult, seeing as Mariella doesn't know who he is. She had only her mother to raise her."

Guy furrowed his eyebrows at hearing this. He had assumed that since the Italian girl had not come directly after her mother's death that her father had been taking care of her since. If this was in fact not so then who exactly had been caring for her? Out of pure curiosity Guy accidentally blurted out an inquiry concerning his thoughts, regretting his curiosity the second that he verbalized it.

The Sheriff seemed to pay no mind, though. "No one cared for her. She wanted to work off her family's debts before she came to me," the Sheriff answered carelessly, "She didn't want to unload them onto me simply because I would be in charge of her. That's why she waited so long to let me know that her mother had died at all."

"Debts?" Guy said in confusion, "What sort of debts did they owe, exactly?" He couldn't stop himself! The questions just kept coming out!

"To put it simply… the man that brought them to England from Italy demanded payment for his services… plus interest and additional costs as the years went on. They could repay their first arrears soon enough, but it was the interest that took them almost ten years to pay."

"Ten _years_?" Guy copied, his blue eyes squinting in confused astonishment at the collector's greed.

"That is what I said, Gisborne…"

"Ten years…" Guy said to mostly himself. They worked ten years, an entire decade, her mother and she and only the girl was able to reap the benefits. Ten years was a long time… One would imagine that it would be long enough to pick up the language of the country. "If she has been here for so long then why does she not know English?"

"No one has been able to teach her."

"She lives in a country where no one understands her and she doesn't understand any of them…" Gisborne noted, fascinated rather than sympathetic, "How does she manage her work?"

"I don't know, but she does…" the Sheriff sighed, obviously growing bored of the subject, "She will be working here under the pretense that she is simply another servant until security measures have been taken care of and you _**will**_ take care of them, won't you, Gisborne?"

"Yes, my lord," Guy answered, finally snapping out of his curiosity, "Did you have anything specific in mind for her?"

"Just the usual will do," the Sheriff answered, "Now, on to business…"


	2. The Sheriff

Author's Note: I loves me some reviews. :)

**Chapter Two: The Sheriff's Ward**

"Vasey," the young woman repeated for what seemed like the umpteenth time in her desperate mindset.

"For the last time: Someone has been sent to fetch him," one of the two guards tried to explain, seeming to begin to lose his patience very quickly with the entire affair.

Of course, these words were obviously wasted on her because she continued to repeat the same name over and over again, "Vasey."

Then just as the guard opened his mouth to say something else, another voice, a new voice, a very familiar voice, joined in, "Vasey is here!"

Both woman and guards looked. "_Uncle Vasey_!" the woman called in Italian before running past the men to throw her arms around the Sheriff.

"_Mariella, my dear,_" he answered in a language that sounded like unpracticed Italian, even to the untrained ear of the born and raised English guards who had only heard the language for the first time today from this woman, "_How are you?_"

"_I'm well enough_," she replied in a dialect that was much more native to Italy than her pale skin had grown to be. At least... it was pale as opposed to the rest of her family's Venetian olive tones. "_How have you been?_"

"_Good… good,_" he said as he pulled away so that the nearby men could see what seemed like a cheap and phony smile on their lord's face, "_But what are you doing here? I haven't seen you in years!_"

"_The family debt has finally been paid off,"_ she announced with the most beautiful smile on her face, her green eyes lighting up like sunlight peeking through a forest's canopy. This new expression made even the bystanding guards curious as to what she was saying. Even more so it made one of them want to know whether or not she was single. Her expressions were so sweet and angelic now that she wasn't yelling in a persistent panic. But it felt strange for Mariella to be smiling, to be truly smiling. It felt like a great weight had been lifted. She had been living a pretty, smiling lie for years now. It was such an experience for her to simply see someone and grin.

"_Is that so?_" he grinned, "_You and your mother have finally been able to work it off? That's wonderful news, my dear! But speaking of Rosalia, where is she?_"

"_Uncle Vasey…_" Mariella trailed off as she pushed a few brunette waves away from her face, her smile quickly disappearing, "_Uncle Vasey… That's why I'm here in the first place… Mama is… She died a couple of years ago._"

"_Did she?_" the Sheriff asked, somehow able to reach into his bag of tricks and appear truly crushed by the news, _"I… can't believe it… Then you've been working it off by yourself?"_

"_No, no…"_ she corrected, _"Arianna has been able to send me money every now and again. That helped significantly."_

"_I see… But if your mother died so long ago why did you not tell me?"_

"_I didn't inform you because that would also mean that you would be obliged to assume care of me and therefore pay off my debts."_

"_So… you didn't want to tell me because… you didn't want to unload your debts onto me?"_

"_That's right."_

"_Oh, Mariella,"_ Vasey said as a look of affection and appreciation swept over his face, "_You_ _didn't have to do that, but thank you."_ Little did Mariella know that she had misinterpreted his near escape as loving thanks. As far as she knew the Sheriff really would have gladly paid off what she had owed.

"_Then I will keep to my word as your godfather, of course, but…"_ the Sheriff nodded, then lowered his voice as if someone might overhear, even though he was still speaking in a language that no one else could understand, _"Certain arrangements will have to be made before I can make our relationship public."_

"_What do you mean?"_ Mariella questioned, not seeming to understand what possible complication could demand this sort of secrecy.

"_Well, you may not believe this, but I'm not well liked around here,"_ the Sheriff began to explain, much to his ward's genuine surprise, _"and if my enemies discover your connection to me before I have been able to make arrangements for your safety then I am afraid that I would be putting you in danger."_

"_But why would your enemies who dislike you put __**me**__ in danger?"_

"_My God, child, do you know nothing about politics?"_ the Sheriff questioned as if talking to a child, "_Hostage, my dear. Kidnapping. Threats. These are all dangerous possibilities that could put your life in danger in order to get to me."_

"_Oh… Politics…"_ Mariella repeated, "_Very well. What do you suggest?"_

"_Well, I suggest that you stay here as a servant,"_ the Sheriff told her, _"You've been doing it most of your life. A few more days won't hurt you, right?"_

Mariella simply nodded her head in agreement and smiled. _"Yes, Uncle Vasey." _She didn't like it, but what choice did she have?_  
_

"_That's my girl," _he said, _"I'll have these gentlemen take care of you."_ He then gestured to the two guards that were standing nearby. "Guards," he said in English, "This woman is now a new servant. Please see to it that she is taken to the servants' quarters and properly settled."

"Yes, my lord," one said as the Sheriff walked past them and back into the castle.

"Hand over your bag," the guard demanded, holding out his hand to receive it, "We have to search it."

Unfortunately, she could not understand the instructions. She knitted her brow with confusion and let her lily green eyes dart back and forth.

"Theo, Theo… Give it up," the other guard told his fellow at seeing the futility of the request, "She can't understand."

"Well, what do you suggest we do, Luke?"

The guard named Luke rolled his eyes and then turned on the young woman, snatching at her bag. Having taken her by surprise it wasn't hard to get it from her. Her hand quickly followed it, but after a reassuring look from Theo she let it go.

She would have tried to snatch it back anyway if not for the fear of causing trouble between them. She had barely gotten here and she was not about start off on the wrong foot.

The guard began emptying the contents of the bag. First he pulled out a wooden box that when pried at was found to be locked. "Could you open this?" Luke grunted.

Amazingly enough Mariella seemed to understand, pulling out a key from around her neck with which to unlock it. She inserted the key into the heart shaped lock to reveal objects of little cause for pause: a few dried flowers, a stone, and a couple pieces of mediocre jewelry. Nothing of interest.

So, having finished with that, Luke closed the box and began going through the rest of her bag.

"Okay, miss, I need to check you…" Theo began awkwardly, hoping that she wouldn't take offense when he started to pat her down to look for weapons… Unfortunately for him she did take offense and in response struck him right across the face and cursed at him in Italian.

"Ow!" Theo exclaimed jumping back, holding his cheek, "Fine. Let's just say that she doesn't have any weapons on her person. After all, the Sheriff wouldn't hire anyone out of nowhere so he must trust her."

"Yeah," Luke nodded as he replaced everything into the sack and returned it to its owner, "Let's just show her to her room."

"This way," Theo ordered as the two began walking into the castle, Mariella following close behind, clutching her bag to her chest but eager to see the interior of her Uncle Vasey's castle.


	3. Common Language

**Chapter Three: Common Language**

"How long has the Sheriff known Italian?" the guard earlier determined as Luke wondered aloud.

"I don't know…" Theo sighed, "I think an even better question is 'Why?'."

"No idea… But I wouldn't mind getting to know some Italian... if you know what I mean."

Theo only rolled his eyes at his co-worker, who was unaffected by the disapproval. He had thought the comment was clever if nothing else.

Of course, Mariella was paying no attention to their conversation as she was more absorbed in her new surroundings. She noticed that the stone walls were very barren. There was hardly any decoration whatsoever. No flowers. No tapestries. No taste whatsoever. Noticing this it wasn't hard for Mariella to assume that Uncle Vasey still had not married. There was no sign of a woman's touch on the entire foundation.

"Here we are," Theo announced as they entered a room, "This will be the dormitory that you will be staying in."

"Hello, ladies!" Luke called, "We brought you a new friend. This one don't speak no English, but be nice… She's close to the Sheriff."

"No English?" one girl repeated.

"Yet still close to the Sheriff…" another pointed out with a coy smile, "I wonder how that could be."

"There's only one way that a peasant can be close to the Sheriff," a third girl chimed in, "And it doesn't require any talking."

A chorus of giggles erupted from the girls. Mariella shrunk away from the laughter that her intuition told her was aimed towards humiliating her.

"That's horrible!" one girl spoke out, "Don't be so mean! She's only been here five seconds and you're already poking fun. For God's sake she doesn't even know English to know that you're making fun of her."

The other girls only shrugged the situation off and returned to their previous business. The guards left. Meanwhile the other girl turned to Mariella. "I'm Laura," she said with a smile, brown eyes lighting up in a way that could comfort even someone who didn't know what her sweetly shaped mouth was saying.

However, Mariella adopted a confused expression anyway.

"Laura," the girl repeated as she pointed to herself, "I'm Laura."

"Laura…" Mariella repeated as she looked upwards in order to commit the name to memory.

"And what is your name?"

"My name is Mariella," she stated in preset recital. It was her second most commonly used trick that she had picked up over the years.

"Oh! That was very good!" Laura smiled, "How much English do you actually know?"

Once again Mariella's brow furrowed with confusion. "I am sorry?" This was her first most commonly used trick.

"Not much I see… No matter," Laura sighed, "I will take care of you. Here…" She took Mariella's bag and led her over to a simple and empty bed. "You can sleep here. We'll just put your things underneath… Hey. Would you like me to show you around the castle?"

There was no response from Mariella.

Laura bit her lip in thought, trying to figure out how to communicate her question, somehow being able to accomplish it with a few more gestures. Mariella nodded in agreement and smiled. So Laura waved for her to follow after and began giving the tour.

"These are the servant's quarters," Laura said as they made their way down the hall, "Those down there are the dungeons. Let's hope that you never have to go in there. It's not a happy place. That's the kitchen. These are guest rooms...The library. Feel free to help yourself to it…" She trailed off. "But since you don't speak English then I highly doubt you can read it so it doesn't matter. But who knows? There might be a few Italian books down there for all I know."

What one might find curious about this scene was that Laura kept talking to the foreign girl, not even caring that she was doing so in a language that her listener could not understand. "More guest rooms here." They began to head downstairs. "Another library… The dining hall… The Great Hall…"

Suddenly Laura turned to see that Mariella was no longer beside her. Laura had lost Mariella! Quickly the servant girl retraced her steps, only to find the Italian girl around the corner, gazing off through a window. "What are you looking at?" Laura questioned as she went to see what the source of interest was. Down in the gardens there was a man who played a tune on the violin that was unfamiliar to Laura.

"You like what you see?" Laura questioned with a playful smile.

Mariella only looked at her new friend, then back to the garden with interest. "Musica," she said simply and softly as she gazed over at him.

"Musica?" Laura repeated, a bit confused for a few moments before realizing what Mariella meant, "Oh! You mean music! Do you want to go down and listen?"

But once again the only reaction that she got from the other girl was a quick glance.

"C'mon," Laura insisted as she grabbed Mariella's hand and began leading her away, down another flight of stairs, and through the corridors when suddenly they saw the Sheriff coming around the corner, who greeted Mariella in her native tongue and began speaking to her in it. Laura could do nothing but stand idly by and continue to be totally ignored until her lord and master finally said his goodbyes-or what she assumed to be a goodbye-and left them. Laura looked after him, surprised that the Sheriff spoke the language and that he could be so warm to anyone. It made her curious, true, but as prying as Laura was this was one matter that she could tell that she should not look into just yet.

* * *

The violinist played smoothly on, totally absorbed in his music, oblivious to the two girls who had decided to approach after three days of first hearing him. Dulcet tones were lulled from the strings by the smooth swipes across them from the bow, the final note long and suspenseful as it rang out, dying softly in the air after the bow had been raised to quit its heavenly work. The two girls quickly exchanged glances then began to applaud the great work, causing the artist whirl around in surprise. "That was very good, Mark," Laura commended, "I didn't know that you could play the violin."

The musician said nothing at first, but only looked quickly from his familiar acquaintance to the stranger beside her. He gave a crooked smile as if only now realizing that he had been greeted. "There are a lot of things that you have yet to learn about me, Miss Laura," he returned as he transferred his bow into the hand that held the violin so that he could brush back blond strands, "And who is this?"

"Oh!" Laura exclaimed, finally remembering that she had not yet made introductions, "This is Mariella. Mariella, Mark."

Mariella gave that warm and friendly smile of hers.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, my lady," Mark said with a bow, "So, what brings a new face like yours to such a place as Nottingham?"

"Mark," Laura warned, "She doesn't speak English."

"She doesn't speak English?" Mark repeated, "Then what does she speak?"

"Italian."

"Ah!" Mark said as his blue eyes sparked with familiarity, "Una donna italiana."

With those few, strange words Mariella's eyes instantly lit up. "Si!" she beamed. As they continued talking, it was obvious by the way that neither speaker could stop smiling that, without a language barrier, Mariella was a very agreeable person.

For once Laura got a taste of what Mariella must have felt like, not knowing what someone was talking about even though they were speaking perfectly, clearly, and right in front of her face. "What are you guys talking about?" Laura finally interrupted.

"Oh, just how she enjoys finally having someone to converse with and help her communicate with others," Mark answered as he smoothed back his hay blonde hair, "Nothing too interesting."

"Well, didn't she have that before with the Sheriff?" Laura asked, having had heard the Sheriff speak the language not a half hour ago.

"The Sheriff speaks Italian?" Mark seemed genuinely shocked, "And here I was thinking we had nothing in common."

"Just ask her why she can't talk to the Sheriff."

"Why?"

"Because it makes no sense to me."

"No, I mean why should I ask her?" Mark clarified as the gleam in his starry blue eyes dimmed, "When did I become the translator?"

"When you revealed that you know Italian."

Mariella cut in with a phrase.

Mark answered with another one.

Then it went back and forth and back and forth until Laura was quite sure that they had started up another dialogue altogether. So, rolling her eyes she prepared to interrupt again. She hated being left out of conversation. However, before she could say a single intruding word, another's words reached them. Strange words they were, to the point where they were nonsense to Laura but made perfect sense Mark and Mariella.

"Mariella!" the Sheriff called from a nearby window, _"Would you come up here?"_

"_Why?"_

"_I have something that I would like to talk to you about. And hurry, would you?"_

"_Of course, Uncle Vasey."_

With that she turned to Mark and hurriedly asked him, _"Can you come with me, Mark? I don't know the way to his office… and I don't want to be losing you afterwards."_

"_Of course,"_ Mark nodded. Very quickly he explained to Laura what had just occurred and why they had to leave. She nodded in understanding and watched the two walking away so that the garden was minus one Mark and one Mariella, being left with only one very confused Laura.

"_What do you think he wants?"_ Mariella questioned in a worried state. Had she done something wrong?

"_You can never tell with the Sheriff, but it can't be too bad."_

"_Do you really think so?"_

"_If the Sheriff was angry, you would know, so would you try not to worry?"_

"_I'll try…" _And she did. Then entire walk up to the door Mariella repeatedly told herself that it would be all right and that it was probably nothing, but in the back of her mind she knew that he wouldn't call her up so unexpectedly for no reason. Something must have happened or gone wrong or…

"_Wait!"_ Mariella whispered just as Mark was about to knock on the door, stopping him mid-swing.

"_What?"_ he questioned.

"_You're sure that nothing will be wrong?"_

Mark only answered with a simple rolling of his eyes at her childish worry and by finally knocked on the door.


	4. Opinions?

**Chapter Four: Opinions?**

Guy walked down the hallway, wishing that his feet were taking him to a different destination than they were. He was headed towards the Sheriff's office, which would normally not be a problem had he had any good news for the Sheriff. So, when he came to that heavy wooden door, he took a second to mentally prepare himself for any teasing, scolding, or ridiculing that he might receive, even though it never really affected him beside the slight irritation that the Sheriff's impatience caused him. After all, if that lazy, power-hungry, manipulative jerk thought that it was so easy then why did he not go look for Robin Hood himself?

But it had been three days since Guy's last report, which also happened to be the day that the castle received a new resident in the form of the Sheriff's long lost ward. He had to tell the Sheriff something. So, Guy walked into the office, prepared to answer the question that came almost immediately after his entrance. Vasey was standing idly by the window and only gave Guy a quick turn to see who was coming into his office. "Gisborne!" he stated very low and neutrally, as if he had just had just been told some very somber news, "What have you heard?"

"Very little to report, my lord," he answered, waiting for the thrashing to come… When it didn't and neither did any other response, Guy went on, "Robin Hood has kept a very low profile as of late. It's highly suspicious..."

When the Sheriff didn't react any further, Guy's curiosity was very piqued. Guy joined the Sheriff over by the window only to see him staring out at a group gathered in the gardens. One man who held a violin in his hand, and two women, one that he thought he could recognize as the Sheriff's ward. Since this distance was the only one he had ever seen her from, it was fairly easy to recognize her. He knew her no other way.

"Gisborne?" the Sheriff sighed when he finally decided to speak.

"Yes, my lord?"

"What do you think of my ward?"

"What?" Guy asked, looking away from the garden scene to scrutinize his superior's face as if he would find an explicable meaning to the question rather than the obvious one, "What do you mean?"

"My ward…" Vasey repeated, turning his head slightly, "What do you think of her? I need the opinion of someone who could actually have an opinion of her. Is she desirable?"

"I… don't think I'm in a position to answer that," Guy answered, brows narrowed in mistrust so that he could hide his utter surprise.

"Why not?"

"I've never even met her, and if I had I wouldn't have been able to understand anything she said."

"Well, that's all very well and good, but what about her appearance?" Vasey urged, starting to lose patience for want of an answer, "Do you find her appearance agreeable?"

This was perhaps one of the most uncalled for questions that Guy had ever been asked. He could hardly believe that the Sheriff was asking a devoted underling if he found his ward attractive. "I wouldn't know, my lord," Guy dodged, "I haven't seen her but from a distance."

"Then let's change that," Vasey suggested before he leaned out the window and called out to Mariella in Italian. They exchanged a few words briefly before Mariella headed out of the garden, one of her party, the man, accompanying her.

"What did you just say?" Guy inquired as he watched the two go out of sight.

"I just asked them to come up here," he replied, "I want to talk to Mariella."

"What is this all about?" Guy questioned, wanting some answers of his own.

"As… _dear_ as Mariella is to me, you could understand how I can't keep her here forever," Vasey began, stepping away from the window to sit at his desk, "So, what I would like to do is get _someone_ to take her off my hands, preferably someone who's alliance I could benefit from. Besides… as her guardian it is my duty to see her married off as quickly as possible and with her language barrier I was trying to get creative and find a trait of hers other than her personality to depend on. I wonder how other father's do it… God knows that they don't depend on their little lepers' personalities to marry them off… and yet they still somehow do it."

"I suppose you could try to depend on her beauty," Guy sighed whilst rolling his steely blue eyes, "but then again there are other ladies of the court who are also beautiful…"

"You haven't seen my Mariella," the Sheriff boasted, raised eyebrows combined with a proud grin, "I wager a shilling that any man would think her just as beautiful dressed in peasant garb as the finest dressed lady of the court."

"We'll see, my lord," Guy told him, turning back to the window to roll his eyes at the idea that any girl could be so fine, "It will be an easy shilling made."

"What's that tone, Gisborne?" Vasey questioned, "Don't believe me?"

"Such girls belong in story books."

"Well, all stories have their inspiration."

"Still, you can't rely on a girl's looks to encourage a man to marry her," Guy told him, turning around to face him.

"Why not? Some men would give their entire fortunes if they could marry a beautiful woman that they never had to hear nag at them day and night."

Guys didn't even feel the need to dignify that statement with a response. He simply let it drop as he went to stare out the window again.

This Sheriff did not take kindly to this reaction. "Well, since you know _everything_ on the matter what do you suggest, Gisborne?"

"Instead of trying work your way around the obstacle, why not eliminate it altogether?"

"Excuse me?"

"Teach her English."

The Sheriff paused a moment, staring at Guy. "Gisborne…" he started in a low tone that was never good. What had he said wrong this time? "That is a wonderful idea!"

"What?" Guy asked. Had the Sheriff just…?

"Oh! There's just one thing…" Vasey growled… and there it was. Here came the scolding remark… "Who is it that is going to teach her?"

"Surely there must be tutors-"

"Surely there must be," Vasey agreed, "But if they knew who was requesting the tutelage and for what reason don't you think that they would ask an appropriate price of me?"

"Then maybe you could teach her?"

"I hardly have the time or the patience," Vasey sighed, massaging his temples, "It would be easier to 'go around the obstacle' as you would say."

"It was just a suggestion," Guy puffed as he turned his attention back to the garden which was now empty.

"Also, there is one last thing concerning her that I want to talk to you about…" Vasey added as he began rummaging through a few papers on his desk, "If any man does take an interest in her, wait for my approval of his eligibility before you let any courtship form. I don't want just anyone to catch her interest."

"Excuse me?" Guy asked, his jaw becoming slack with bemusement at the request.

"Make sure that no man so much as stands near her alone unless I have given them the official seal of approval."

"So you want me to play chaperone?"

"Exactly," the Sheriff pointed out, "My, Gisborne, you _do _catch on quickly."

"That is not exactly part of my job description," Guy objected, approaching the desk and apprehensively placing his hands on it, leaning forward.

"La dee da dee da!" Vasey chimed, "Your job is to do whatever I say and since your previous duties have diminished dramatically, I find it necessary to give you others to keep you busy. We can't have you reaping benefits without having done the work, can we? A clue: No."

Slowly he backed away and then through a clenched jaw Guy was able to answer, "Yes, my lord." He then retreated to the window to lean against its frame.

"Good," the Sheriff said as he began to return to his reading and shuffling when suddenly there was a knock at the door. "Come in!"


	5. The Man In Black

**Chapter Five: The Man In Black**

"Come in!" replied the Sheriff's voice, permitting Mark to open the door for Mariella who hesitantly stepped in.

"_You wanted to see me, Uncle Vasey?"_ Mariella greeted in her native tongue.

"_Yes, yes,"_ Vasey nodded, rubbing his hands together as he stopped his work at his desk to stand and welcome his charge, _"Come in please…"_ He paused upon seeing the extra body and instantly switched back to English. "Sir Mark… What are you doing here?"

Mariella's eyes darted from each face in the room. From the Sheriff's, to Mark's, to… a man with whom she was not familiar who dressed very malevolently in all black. She couldn't help but let her gaze linger on this new fierce face as the English conversation continued on without a scratch of her notice. It would have been very hard to concentrate on their words anyway even if she was involved in the dialogue, especially with those grey eyes to distract her. _They were beautiful. _

"I'm acting as Mariella's translator," Mark answered his lord's inquiry.

_Frighteningly beautiful._

"That's very noble of you…" Vasey commented suspiciously as he tilted his head back to look down his nose at Mark, "You aren't expecting some sort of reward, are you?"

_They were as empty as a pillaged treasure trove after the thieves had come and gone with the last of the riches._

"Of course not," Mark denied, "Just the chance to spend some time with her and to fill my days."

_As ominous as the stirring grey sea as it forewarns its helpless voyagers of the oncoming storm._

"I see…" the Sheriff nodded, finding a way to use this information to his advantage, "I just had a thought. Why don't you spend your days teaching her English instead? We would both very much appreciate it."

"Sir, I'm not much of a teacher-"

_As cold and piercing as the steel of a mercenary's dagger as it plunges into its victim's heart. Oh, no! He was looking this way!_

"Come now, boy. Any monkey can be a teacher. I'm sure it can't be that difficult. Besides… how else are you going to spend all of your spare time? You might as well make yourself useful."

"Touché, my lord," Mark smiled, "Very well. I'll do it."

_Among Mariella's talents, one of them was using a person's eyes to look into their hearts. They were after all the portal into the soul and she didn't like where his took her, but she couldn't look away. The worst of the worlds evils' were trapped in this stranger's eyes, as were the worst of its woes, hurling Mariella into a whirling daze reminiscent of floating, sinking, falling and never knowing if she'd ever stop, stop–_"Stop!" she screamed, realizing all too late that the exclamation had been English.

The world, time itself, obeyed. The room stood still, frozen as a reaction to the Italian woman's cry.

"_Excuse me?_" Vasey asked with eyebrows raised high.

"Uh… um…" she said, terrified of what she had just done, "_Please… I have work to do. Might we please get to the point?_"

"I thought you said she didn't speak English…" the stranger finally spoke with a voice as deep and threatening as his eyes, bringing her fear into another one of the five senses and strengthening his control over her anxiety.

"She… doesn't…" Vasey replied, doubtful of his own statement, "Or last I checked… _Why did you say that, Mariella?_"

"_What?"_ Mariella gasped as she was pulled out of her nervous state_, "Say… what?"_

"Stop," he reminded, "_Why did you say 'stop' in English?_"

"_So all of you could understand,"_ she defended as she felt her cheeks fill with color and her heart fill with shame for slipping up, _"Please… Excuse me. It is one of the few words I know."_

Vasey took his time to consider his response. _"Of course…"_ he nodded, _"Well… I have good news. Sir Mark will be teaching you English from now on. The only time that you will have to do chores is when you aren't learning."_

Mariella… didn't know how to feel about this, let alone how to respond. It was just one shock after another. She was to learn English? Did he actually expect her to… But it was her barrier! Her shield! Her protection from the evils and influences of the world! What did Vasey plan for her to do? Socialize? Communicate? Actually _talk_ to people?

"_Thank you, Uncle Vasey,"_ Mariella recovered her mask and hoped that she hadn't let it slip too much. So she curtsied with her best attempt at a smile on her face, _"You don't know how happy this makes me."_

"_And now that that is settled I have something to dangle in front of you," _he began, but paused before continuing, "Sir Mark, if you could please step out of the room and wait outside? I have some personal matters to discuss with Mariella."

"Yes… of course…" With that Mark took his leave, giving Mariella one last encouraging glance before pulling the door shut in his wake.

"So, what do you think of her, so far, Gisborne?" Vasey asked, smiling over at his crony.

Mariella's eyebrows shot up, but she instantly readjusted herself.

"This is not the time or place for that sort of question," Guy retorted, trying to hide his surprise with a splash of venom.

"Oh, please! She can't understand. I want an opinion while you still have a good image of her."

"_Uncle Vasey?"_ she interrupted, _"Didn't you have something to talk to me about? What are you two saying anyway?"_

"_Oh, just… discussing politics,"_ he lied, "So, tell me Gisborne. It's alright. You can tell me the truth. She won't be able to understand you either way you choose."

"I haven't decided yet," Guy growled.

"What is there to decide? Do you think her the marrying type or not?"

"I will admit that she is good looking, but…"

"But what?"

"Why is this so important to you?"

"Because I need an opinion to see how much or how little I will have to work to advertise her!"

Guy stared at the Sheriff then slowly let his gaze wander to Mariella, scrutinizing her shamelessly.

Seeing this Mariella wanted to shrink away, fighting the urge to physically take a step back.

From Guy's eyes, she seemed scared, vulnerable, but she held her head up despite the fact. She was obviously uncomfortable in his presence, him being a stranger to her, but she hid it very well. There was a sort of soft valor in her expression. And there was something in her eyes. A sort of concentration… a knowledge. Maybe she somehow knew what they were saying? No. He was just being paranoid. She didn't speak English! There was no way she could know… and yet her expression was filled with understanding. "I haven't decided yet," he repeated with even more sternness to hide his suspicions.

"Very well, Gisborne," the Sheriff accepted before turning to Mariella, _"Back to business… If your English lessons go well and you have learned enough in time, I might reward you with a few more perks than I have already given you."_

"_Perks?"_ Mariella repeated, _"Like what?"_

"_I can't tell you yet,"_ Vasey smiled devilishly, _"Otherwise it would ruin the surprise. Do we have a deal?"_

She nodded with a faint smile on her face. _"We have a deal."_

"_Also before you go there is something I want to ask you…"_

"_Yes?"_

"_Would you consider wearing a bonnet?"_

"_A bonnet?" _she laughed,_ "What for?"_

"_You've only just gotten here and… people are beginning to talk."_

"_Ah… So you're asking me to wear a bonnet because by 'people' you mean 'men', am I correct?"_

The Sheriff's face suddenly dropped. _"Please tell me that you're psychic and not that this has happened before," _he begged. The very thought of her having too many options available to her because of her fair looks forewarned the foiling of his plans.

"_Don't worry,"_ she assured him, _"Just give them some time and they'll get over me. They're only interested because I'm a new face. In time they'll forget all about me."_

"_Very well…" _he sighed, _"Just don't get any ideas."_

"_You won't have to worry about me."_

"_Good. Now run along and attend to your chores… or your lessons. Either one would do."_

"_Yes, Uncle Vasey."_ With that she gave a curtsey, rising from it to see the man in black staring at her once again, quickly averting his gaze from hers. It was a good thing that she was leaving then… If not she wouldn't have been able to bring herself to put up her smiling façade anymore. What was it about that man that scared her senseless? Something in her subconscious made her fear him like she had feared no other man before. What was it about him? She had no reason to fear him! He was human after all… He had done nothing to threaten her and yet the fear was present.

And so Vasey and Gisborne were left alone once more.

"Well, Gisborne?" the Sheriff grinned smugly, "Have you made a decision now that she is gone?"

His assistant simply moved over from his spot at the window and placed something on the large desk. "Twenty says I think differently next month," he growled before rushing out. The Sheriff smiled to himself as he looked at the coin, reaching out and pocketing it soon afterward. It was the easiest shilling he had ever made.


	6. The Shattering Secret

**Chapter Six: The Shattering Secret**

"So, Mariella…" Laura began as she started to make the bed of the noble's room they were cleaning, "How are your English lessons coming along?"

"Well," Mariella answered in English.

"They must be if you can understand me that well after only two weeks," Laura smiled.

"Laura…" Mariella addressed in a low voice as she paused in her work to look her friend in the eye, "You… keep secret?"

"Sure," she told her, not ceasing in her own work, "What is it?"

Slowly she prepared herself for what she was about to tell Laura. She had never told anyone this secret before, but since this place was most likely to be her last home she wanted someone to else to know her secret at least until it could be eased into common knowledge. "I speak English," Mariella admitted, the accent that she had been using for the past two weeks being greatly reduced within a few moments.

Laura stopped and looked up at Mariella, frozen in the position that she had gone into when she had reached across the bed to put the sheets into place, so stoic that Mariella could have believed that time had slowed or stopped entirely. Then slowly the servant girl righted herself, her back straight and her hands to her sides, to stare at Mariella and to better give her attention to what the other woman had to say. "You speak English?" she asked, "What do you mean by that?"

"I speak English," Mariella went on, "I have for the past ten years and am quite practiced in it."

As many people knew, Laura always had something to say, but not now. This new secret had stricken her speechless as she stood there, seeming to just stare at the wrinkles in the bed sheets, as if the insignificant truth that she once believed was lying there on the covers, dying right before her eyes, like a squirming bug that had not been properly squashed. "You… speak English?" she said, still a little confused but starting to get a grasp on what Mariella was saying.

The fact that Laura was having such a hard time with this confused Mariella, causing her green eyes to try and study her, trying to configure what the problem could be. "Yes…" she confirmed.

"But if you know English, then why are you going around pretending that you don't?" Laura questioned as she began to regain control over herself once again.

"My mother," she explained, "My mother always told me, 'Language is a tool people use to deceive you. They use it to lie and manipulate. Take away that tool from the world and they will speak only truth to you.'"

"And did that work?"

"Yes. I was one of the best gossip gatherers wherever I went," Mariella admitted as she proudly smiled only to have it slip away a few moments later, "However… there were some cases where I learned things that I didn't want to know…"

"Like what?" Laura asked, her voice growing very sympathetic.

"Like reasons to always wear my hair tied back," she started, "and to never make eye contact with a man."

"Why not?"

Surprisingly at that moment, Laura saw the shadow of a smile form on Mariella's face. "Because doing so assures that a foolish romance will not enter your mind."

"What's wrong with a little romance?" Laura smiled, trying to make light of the word.

"I have seen what it does to people," Mariella answered as she began her work again, "Don't get me wrong, I believe that love is out there, but not for me. That is why my mother always told me, 'Love every man the same way and you will never be hurt.'"

"What about your father?" Laura asked, "Didn't she love him?"

"She did," Mariella nodded, looking down her nose as she worked, "That's why it hurt her so badly when he left."

"Oh… I'm sorry to hear that."

"It's fine. At least it taught me a lesson. I have never loved a man in my entire life and I am as happy as could be." She proved this by smiling and returning to her sweet, cheery self.

"Wow…" Laura said, with a hint of disbelief, "Your mother raised you to be a nun!"

"Hardly," Mariella laughed, "I love life too much to devote it to God."

"Well, does anyone else know about you speaking English?"

"I've only told Mark and you."

"I see…"

"You have to promise not to tell anyone," Mariella urged, "Out of all of the places I have ever gone in the past ten years, this is the first time that I have had to tell someone this."

"I promise…" Laura told her.

"Thank you."

After that the girls set to work in silence for a few minutes until something that Mariella had said caught Laura's attention, causing her to address it, "Exactly how many places have you gone to in ten years?"

Looking up, Mariella considered her question before going on with her work. "I've lost count," she admitted, "My best guess would have to be… twelve or thirteen. Maybe more."

"That's unbelievable! Why did you move so much?"

"Usually it was a concern of work. We were in debt to the man that brought us here from Italy, so he used us as serfs of a sort to pay off the money he owed to whoever's estate he would transfer us to. Once payment was satisfied in one place, he would move us somewhere else."

"That must have been rough..."

Mariella only shrugged. "I got used to it," she said, "But it wasn't all bad. I got the opportunity to meet interesting people… See England… gather knowledge… And I had my family most of the time, so it wasn't so bad."

Laura paused for a moment to look over at the Italian woman. "What do you mean by 'most of the time', if I may ask?"

"Well… after a few years… my brother ran away to go and try to earn better money to help pay the debt. Then in order to help, my mother married off my sister to a man who paid a large dowry, which helped significantly."

"And she was willing to just be married off like that?" Laura asked, "If I was her I…" She trailed off. She probably would have done the same thing in order to help her family and escape debt.

"Actually, my sister loved that man. It was just our luck that he happened to be rich. So my mother gave her blessing and he insisted on the dowry."

"Wow… That _is_ luck."

"Yes… I only wish that all love were like that," Mariella sighed, "You fall in love with one man and then you stay in love forever…"

"I thought that you said that you didn't want to fall in love…" Laura pointed out in a low tone.

"It's not that…" Mariella corrected, "I just don't want to get hurt looking for it."

"But why not?"

"It's just not worth it."

"But it is, Mariella…" Laura assured her, "When you play the game of love you can either be the happiest person on earth for a while and then get your heart broken, or you can fall in love and know what it feels like to know that you will never be lonely again!"

"Laura…?" Mariella said, waiting for an answer before she went on.

"Yes?"

"That all sounds very nice… but falling in love only happens in fairy tales." With that she grabbed a nearby pillow and threw it in Laura's face. "I would rather be lonely and independent than in love any day."

Laura caught the pillow just before it hit her and laughed. "Just you wait, Mariella. Just you wait."

Little did Mariella know that this was a true warning and one that would soon be put into effect.


	7. Walking Torture

**Chapter Seven: Walking Torture**

"Once more!" Laura applauded from her spot by the tree.

"Only if Mariella sings," Mark haggled with a smirk as he lowered his violin.

"No," the Italian sweetly smiled from the spot on the grass where she lay, "I want to hear you play more."

"And I want to hear you sing more," Mark retorted, "So it's either I play behind you or not at all."

"C'mon, Mariella," Laura urged, "Just one song?"

Softly Mariella sighed and closed her eyes, opened her mouth and began:

_The sea will never run dry my dear_

_Nor the rocks never melt with the sun_

_And I never will prove false to the bonny lad I love_

_Til all these things be done my dear,_

_Til all these things be done_

It was amazing how song got rid of Mariella's speaking accent so much so that one would be surprised she had one at all when she stopped. She loved music. She especially loved to sing. It would put her in a state so far away from the rest of the world that she hardly noticed when Mark stopped playing.

_Oh, yonder doth sit that little turtle dove_

_He doth sit on yonder high tree_

_A-making a moan for the loss of his love_

_As I will do for thee, my dear_

_As I will do for thee…_

That was when the clapping commenced, however it wasn't just Laura applauding this time. There was an extra pair of hands clapping and somehow Mariella knew that Mark wasn't so talented that he could clap with his violin in his hands. Her eyes popped open and she bolted up into a sitting position to see Vasey slowly clapping his hands together. Not far away from him, arms folded and waiting was the man in black. _'Dear Lord'_ Mariella thought as she felt her heart stop upon seeing the figure standing there. _'They heard me singing! __**He**__ heard me singing!'_

"Bravo," Vasey called as he slowed his clapping, "Bravo."

Mariella instantly stood up to greet them. _"Uncle Vasey!"_ Mariella greeted in Italian.

"Ah, ah, ah," he scolded, "English. I don't want your singing to be the only thing you practice."

"Yes, Uncle-"

"And please!" Vasey stopped her, "I think you should start addressing me more formally."

"Yes… my lord," she accommodated trying to keep her smile, her fake Italian accent obvious even in those few words. So now she wasn't even allowed to call him 'Uncle Vasey'? This was not the man she remembered…

"Good," he smiled, clapping his hands together, "Now that that's taken care of, I wanted to take this opportunity to tell you that I think your English lessons have been paying off. It's high time that you reaped your benefits."

"Benefits?" She pronounced the word slowly, her voice portraying her supposed struggle to understand it.

"Yes, my dear. Rewards. Benefits."

"Rewards?" she asked, now more amazed than puzzled, "You mean…?"

"Yes," Vasey smiled, "I would like you to move to a new room and I would also like for you to have dinner with me and a friend of mine tonight. It will be… a test, if you will, to gauge your readiness to enter the noble life and be presented to the world."

"Oh…" Mariella said, her anxiety of excelling in this test overcoming her excitement of being promoted to a status in which she could take it, "I see…"

"But not to worry," Vasey reassured, sensing her discomfort, "I'm sure that you'll do fine… So! Gisborne, take Mariella's things…" At this he held up her traveling bag that most likely held all of her possessions. "… and take her to her room."

Gisborne's eyes hardened and he begrudgingly swiped the sack out of Vasey's hand.

"Good boy," he smiled, "Now you two have fun while I go attend to a few things."

"Uncle Vasey!" Mariella called, catching the Sheriff by the sleeve to stop him. He raised a brow as if what she had just done was the most preposterous thing anyone had ever dared. Seeing this she instantly let go and shrunk away before she tried to redeem herself, "I mean… my lord…" It didn't seem that she could quite grasp the words she wanted to say until she found the few that fit perfectly, "Thank you." With that she threw her arms around his neck and hugged him.

After gently urging her off of him, Vasey then did something that nearly assured her that the uncle of her childhood who she knew and loved was no more: he raised his brow once again and said, "There's hope for you yet, my dear." He even went as far as snickering, "There's definitely hope for you yet." Then he turned and left without another word.

Once he was gone, Mariella's eyes turned to the man in black, or Gisborne as she had learned his name was. He only glanced over at Mariella and stated simply, "Follow me."

Mariella obeyed. Then quickly chasing after him, she made a grab for her bag and told him, "I can take it."

Gisborne's fingers loosened at the very attempt of her hand trying to take hold of her possessions, not wanting to keep it from her if she truly wanted it. He saw no trouble in being relieved of her possessions. But at this point he stopped and stared at the girl, finding it strange that she would take this initiative to begin with and even more strange her introverted stance afterward. She stood before him, clutching her bag to her chest with her eyes cast down to the floor, trying at all expense to avoid his gaze. She cradled her things in her arms and waited for him to continue leading the way.

Having taken in the frightened girl adequately, Gisborne took the first new step. She walked beside him, not sure what she should say or if the stranger even wanted anything to be said at all, but when she eventually noticed that he had no desire to put forward the effort she didn't bother either. If this could have been the format of the entire trip to her room, the walk might have been endurable. However, something eventually inspired Gisborne to finally attempt a conversation: "Your English seems to be coming along nicely."

"Thank you," she said, keeping her back straight and sure but her eyes cast down in shy avoidance, "Sir Mark is… good teacher."

A few moments of uncomfortable silence worked their way in at this point until Gisborne conjured up something else to say.

"I haven't properly introduced myself," he made clear, "I am Guy of Gisborne, Lord of Locksley."

"Guy of Gisborne, Lord of Locksley?" Mariella repeated, lifting her gaze up from the ground so that it could wander the hallway in front of her as she pondered the introduction, "That is a lot to say. Do you say this always?"

Guy furrowed his brow at the statement, finding it very odd that she would criticize how he presented himself. "Not always," he admitted, "I just thought it appropriate since you know nothing of me that I should introduce myself to the fullest."

"Why is this?" she asked with a smile so soft that Guy couldn't and didn't know how to decipher it.

"I don't know…" he asked, now feeling like he had become the fox that had been chased into a dead end.

Another moment of silence between them.

"I am sorry," Mariella told him, "You are right. I like it you told me. It makes you not a face and a name. Now I know too your title and that you are Lord of Locksley."

The silence that followed this 'conversation' was a slow and painful one, far worse than it could have been if nothing had been said at all. It was the torture of all tortures. She could nearly feel the tension pressing in on her like quicksand. The only difference between the two agonies was that Mariella desperately wished that it would go quicker to put her out of her misery. Unfortunately, it appeared as if quicksand would have killed her faster than this walk. The only bright side she could acknowledge was that she was no longer scared of him. Instead she now only felt awkward and uncomfortable. What a horrible first conversation! It was made even worse as Mariella refused to let herself even so much as look at him for fear of those frightening, paralyzing eyes, in case she would be struck scared yet again.

Suddenly he stopped. "This is your room," Guy told her, opening the door so that she could go in.

Looking around, Mariella had to admit that she was a bit disappointed. The room, since it was decently furnished, seemed too cluttered for her taste… and yet still seemed very bare. It was only the sheets that dressed her four poster bed that gave the room anything close to a feeling of softness and invitation. Even the curtains adorning the bed seemed too adamant for her liking. Then again, it wasn't easy to make a stone room feel like a home. That's why Mariella never liked castles. They were full of stony rooms. But maybe it wouldn't be so bad. This room definitely had its perks; a soft bed, a small nook with a writing table, a vanity, and a wardrobe. Noticing it, curiosity caught hold of Mariella and she opened it. There weren't many gowns inside, but there were enough. The quality of most of them was equal to the quality of the finest dress she had ever worn, which wasn't quite fit enough to see the king in but that was well and good with her. She had no need for such finery since she expected never to meet the king.

"If there is anything you need, guards will be posted at your door every night and servants are always nearby," Gisborne said and, by taking a few steps into the room, reminded Mariella of how small and timid he made her feel, "but if there is nothing else that you need of me I will be going now. Dinner will be served at seven."

"Lord Gisborne?" she called before he could leave, doing her best to not let her voice waver, "I have question."

"Yes?" he waited, "What is it?"

"How do I look?" she asked, indicating the clothing hanging in the closet.

"Excuse me?" he questioned, his face screwing up in confusion.

"How do I look for dinner?" Mariella repeated, "Medium?" She indicated one of the lesser dresses. "Or nice?" She switched over to one of the nicer pieces of attire.

Guy paused a moment as he realized that she was asking how she should dress for later that night, then considered an answer to the question. He gave a brief and awkward gesture. "Regular will do."

"Thank you," she told him.

"Is that all?" was his response.

"Yes," she affirmed, "Thank you."

This time he only nodded, then left and went on his way.


	8. Dinner Is Served

**Chapter Eight: Dinner Is Served**

Carefully Mariella began put her hair in a neat bun, just as she had done thousands of times ever since she was fourteen and could manage it without her mother's help. Of course, her hair had grown much longer since then and would now fall down to her mid back in gentle waves whenever it was let loose, which wasn't often. Placing the last few pins into her hair, Mariella stopped to examine her work. Perfect. But something was missing. Her dress of coastal blue and green was elegant enough, but it made her countenance seem sub par in comparison. So, she did the exact same thing that any other woman would do; she accessorized.

First she started out by searching through her own possessions, but none of it sparkled quite like she had seen the jewelry of other ladies sparkle in the past. No two pieces of the new collection matched another and if any did then they didn't match the dress. It was an absolute nightmare! No matter what she did she was not satisfied. Normally she would not have fretted so over her appearance, but tonight was a very special dinner. She had to prove to Vasey that she was worthy of being called a lady.

Just as she was about to give up, a sound of salvation was produced on the other side of her door: a knock and Laura calling, "How's it going in there?"

"Laura!" Mariella called, as she rushed from her vanity to open the door, "Save me!"

"What?" she asked as the Italian ushered her inside.

"I don't know what to do!" Mariella confessed with rushed words that nearly flew out of her lips, "None of the jewelry matches! Maybe I should just change dresses… But then I would have to waste more time finding jewelry for _that_ dress and… Oh! What do you think?"

"What do I think?" Laura asked, her eyes wide with surprise and fear, "I think you're mad, that's what I think! Why's this dinner so important, anyways?"

"Because I want Un…" She caught herself. "…the Sheriff to be proud of me. It seems that ever since I got here he's been so… what's the word... fake towards me."

"Fake? How?"

"For example, when I was little he would insist on me calling him Uncle Vasey… Now he insists that I do nothing of the kind. It's like he's trying to push me away."

"I'm sure that he's just trying to keep face," Laura reassured, "He wasn't running Sherwood when you were younger. Now he has a reputation to keep up."

Mariella sighed. "Men and their precious reputations. Why is it that that showing affection to a loved one is so hard for them? Why is it such a bad thing?"

"In his case, it shows weakness," Laura pointed out, "But I think you could break him of it tonight by showing him what a lovely young lady you've become and how honored he should be to be in charge of you."

"But how?" Mariella asked, "I've tried all the jewelry and-"

"Hold still," Laura interrupted, a smirk sparking onto her face as an idea ignited in her mind.

The next thing that Mariella knew, Laura was sitting behind her on the bed, poking and prodding at her hair. At first, she didn't like the idea of Laura playing with her hair, but once she placed total trust in Laura she was able to wait more patiently. Mariella felt anxious, only able to wonder what on earth Laura could be doing. Then, just as she was about to ask, she felt her hair come tumbling out of its bun. "What are you doing?" she exclaimed, reaching to the back of her head to feel for a bun that was no longer there.

"Trust me," she urged, "By the time I'm done with you-"

There was a knock on the door to cut Laura off. "My lady?" a deep voice that Mariella recognized as masculine and unwanted called, "Are you ready?"

"Who is it?" Mariella asked anyway, remembering to put on her accent already knowing who it was.

"Sir Guy," the voice answered, "The Sheriff asked me to come fetch you."

"I am not ready!" she called back as she dashed around room to try and find a solution to her hanging hair, even though she knew it would do no good.

"I'm sorry, my lady but you have to come now."

"Si, si. I'm coming." With that, she turned to her mirror. There was no time to put her hair back up in a bun… Tying it back with a ribbon would have to do. So that's what she quickly did, tying it up with a quick and deft skill. Taking one last glance in the mirror, she found herself to be quite satisfactory; neither a prominent beauty nor plain, an elegant wallflower. It was always a goal of hers to always look presentable but never pretty.

So, she went to the door and opened it. "I am sorry I am late," she told him as she stepped out, her eyes only cast in his general direction instead of at his face.

"It's… alright," Guy told her, his words suddenly distant and uncertain.

Thus began the long trip to the Dining Hall, started off by this brief comment, followed by a stretch of absolutely nothing as they both stood there in obscurity. Mariella suddenly adopted the fear of a repeat of the day's earlier occurrence.

Guy was the first one to motion to move on from this moment and move forward, offering his arm for Mariella to take. It was very reluctantly that she accepted, almost seeming to increase the discomfort with the contact, if it was at all possible to increase the discomfort at all. Now that she had linked her arm in his there was no withdrawing it for, though she was not partial to Sir Guy of Gisborne, she would by no means ever want to insult any minor acquaintance, even him. So, she was stuck. The best thing she could do was try to minimize the physical contact she was being forced to make, but she would do no more than that. There was no way that she was going to bring herself remove it now. He might as well have taken her arm captive and it wouldn't have made a difference. Mariella was just that frightened of insulting another human being who'd done her no wrong.

Guy cleared his throat. Maybe Mariella wasn't the only one that felt odd. Perhaps Guy too could feel how uncomfortable their situation was. Maybe that was why he attempted to break the silence… "You look very…" but he trailed off. He must have not thought his statement through. Mariella didn't know if she was grateful for that or not. If he had completed what he was about say, not only would he have complimented her and put her into a position of not knowing how to respond, the silence following it would have not improved… On the other hand, maybe it would have been to preferable to this, Guy having left those words hanging in the air.

"Yes?" Mariella encouraged him.

"Nothing…" he answered after a moment, "Nothing. Forget I said anything at all."

'_God, kill me now…_' she thought to herself, looking ahead and trying to ignore him completely. When that didn't work, she had only one option left. Subtly she turned her head towards him and smiled, which caught his attention in a matter of seconds. Hitherto this moment, she had never really looked up at his face and this was the closest she had ever gotten to doing that, having only caught a glance before turning her attention onward once more. In truth, she was scared to see his face. Already he made her feel uncomfortable and if she spied how cold he really was then she was done for. If she ever found out that he really was a dull and socially awkward person—and she **would** be able to tell by his face—then she would probably grow to detest the very idea of being near him. She would much rather have things stay as they were so that she could stay on the positive side and assume that he wasn't the sort of person that he probably was and that Mariella would avoid at all cost.

"Ah, Mariella!" Vasey greeted as the couple entered into the dining hall and began their descent down the stairs, "Gisborne! Glad you finally decided to show up!"

"I am sorry, my lord," Mariella began, "It was the fault of me."

"I know," the Sheriff retorted, not making the effort to rise while his other two guests did, "because Gisborne got here before you, right in time for me to send him to fetch you."

Mariella said nothing to this, but to simply hung her head for lack of a reply.

"No, matter," he sighed, brushing the situation off as if it had been a bit of dirt on his shoulder, "You're here now. Mariella, I would like to introduce you to Sir Michael of Kirklees." The male guest gave a bow of his head and bended only the slightest bit at the waist. "And this is his daughter, Lady Elizabeth." The young woman gave a small curtsey.

Mariella, not knowing what to do, only nodded at each of their names before being offered a seat to Vasey's right. Slowly, Guy led her over to it and pulled out her chair for her, helping her into it. "Thank you," she told him, giving a glance in his general direction.

"You too, Gisborne," Vasey ordered, gesturing to the empty seat to his left, "Sit."

"With all due respect, my lord, I must return to Locksley," Guy denied, much to Mariella's satisfaction.

"Not if I say you don't," Vasey corrected as he carefully selected a grape from a nearby platter before popping it into his mouth, "You are staying. That is an order."

There was no arguing with that so Guy had no other choice but to take the seat offered him, much to the dismay of both Mariella and himself.

"Good," Vasey said, "Shall we then?"


	9. Dismissal

**Chapter Nine: Dismissal**

The dinner seemed to be progressing well. Vasey appeared happy with Mariella and she wasn't having such a miserable time either. That is, until the discussion topic took a turn for the worse.

"So, how are things going in Kirklees, Sir Michael?" Vasey asked after having placed a piece of chicken into his mouth, "Well, I assume?"

"Yes, actually," Sir Michael answered, scanning the table for something else that he might want to try a bite of, "The peasants are behaving. I've finally gotten them to start paying taxes."

"And how is it that you've managed that?" Vasey questioned with a furrowed brow and a tilted head, trying his best to grasp the concept of the common people actually paying their dues.

"Serfdom, my lord, serfdom."

Mariella's fork suddenly stopped just as it was about to enter her mouth and lingered for an instant too long. In that one fraction of a second, time stood still, but she was quick to recover and put her fork in her mouth, chewing slowly and having a hard time swallowing. Her appetite had been completely diminished by the mere mention of the topic.

"Ah, serfs!" Vasey said, pressing his tongue to the inside of his cheek as he contemplated the idea, "I never had much use for serfdom."

"But, my lord it can have its benefits," Sir Michael argued, "I mean… ever since I started using it, I have been able to eliminate the wages of paid servants by replacing them with serfs, thus lowering the taxes that were used to pay them and allowing the peasants a better chance to pay by becoming surfs."

"Hm…" Vasey considered, pursing his lips in thought, "Maybe we should discuss this later."

"My lord?" Mariella asked, "May I go? I am… not feeling well."

"Are you sure?" Vasey asked, "Dinner is almost over."

"Which is why I hope it won't bother you if I go."

Vasey looked at her with his head tilted slightly, lips almost as tight as the fist his hand was curling into on the arm of his chair. "Very well."

"I will escort you to your room," Guy offered, standing as she did, "It is about time that I left as well."

Instantly Mariella looked to Vasey for help out of the situation, but all he said was, "Good night then."

"Good night, my lord," they said in unison. They exchanged glances simultaneously, which is where Mariella made a very horrible mistake: She looked into Guy of Gisborne's face, seeing something far worse than what she had expected. Instead of seeing a man that she couldn't stand to be around, she saw a man that she feared to even be near. In that mere instant of seeing his face she saw a dark presence that she did not like the looks of. Still they met at the stairway, only pausing briefly enough for Guy to offer his arm to Mariella, much to her dismay for she couldn't ignore the offer in front of the others for fear of looking rude. She didn't want to spoil any reputation that had already been formed about her. If that happened then she would never be the sort of girl that a father would be proud to call his daughter and seeing how Vasey seemed almost indifferent of her presence at the castle, earning such respect would be harder than usual. That was her only motivation to take Sir Guy's arm at all. Otherwise, she would have shrunk away from him whenever he came too close for comfort. The experience of exchanging the slightest glance with this man had inspired a cowardice in her that she had never felt before. It had been something in his eyes that she had not liked, making her feel even less secure with him than she had ever felt previously. There was a looming aura about this man. That much was obvious right off. It actually struck her senseless how unfamiliar and strange his presence felt, so much so that she didn't even want to look him in the eye ever again.

Once the doors of the Great Hall were closed behind them, she instantly cast her eyes to the ground, not wanting there to be any chance of ever having to look at him again.

"You did very well tonight," Guy announced, apparently not as thankful for the silence between them as Mariella was.

"Thank you," was all she laconically answered, trying to make sure that there wouldn't be anything in her response that Guy could build on to progress in a conversation. She wanted to get through this stroll as painlessly as possible and talking would not help. Even the slight contact that they shared made her feel as if her limb would soon vanish into thin air rather than spend another moment touching this man. If she could have taken herself away from Guy without potentially upsetting him she would have. If she could have taken herself away from Guy and darted off down the hallway without seeming out of her wits then that would have been even better.

Of course, that would have been socially unacceptable and ultimately quite odd.

Then again, Mariella had also believed that it would have been nigh impossible to come up with any material to form a discussion topic based on her last comment. What she had not expected, however, was that Guy would simply draw from his _own_ preceding statement. "I was very surprised at your performance, especially considering your… previous lifestyle."

A clever move it had been on his part, but not even he could continue on with that. So, Mariella only mustered a smile in his direction, still making sure to focus somewhere near the vicinity of his head rather than his face for the few seconds whilst she had turned towards him.

"And you shouldn't do that anymore…" Guy went on, utterly annoying Mariella with his ability to sustain a one-sided conversation that concerned nothing whatsoever of interest.

But after a moment of annoyance with the statement, its context caught her attention and confused her, not being quite sure of what he was pertaining to.

"Do… what?" she questioned with that mildly exaggerated accent of hers.

"Avoid making eye contact with people," he elaborated, "I've noticed that the Sheriff is the only one that you can ever stand making eye contact with for more than a moment. Otherwise, the most you managed for anyone else is to glance about such as you just demonstrated only a second ago. You look anywhere but the speaker's face."

At this point, Mariella hid her face even better now that she had been found out. She had to say something, but what? Whatever it was, it had to be now. "I am shy…" she half lied. It was the best thing that she could manage at the time. She was never very skilled at thinking on her toes, but she managed all the same.

"We're going to have to work on that then, won't we?"

"What do you mean?" Mariella asked with a knit brow, going so far as to look up at him, thankful that he kept his attention forward.

"What I mean is that I think that we should spend some time together tomorrow," he explained, "To maybe see what we can do about helping you to at least look at the people you talk to."

Still Mariella remained silent as she instantly turned away. How could she say 'no' to a man that she barely knew, especially one so unfamiliar to her? She didn't even know how to deny such an outward request from someone that she **was** familiar with. Saying 'yes' was the last thing that she wanted to do, but it was impossible to say 'no'.

"Is that something that you could agree to do?" Guy asked, looking to her for an answer.

Carefully Mariella thought about what to say. "If the Sheriff thinks it is needed, then I will have to agree."

"Good," he commented, "because he has already approved of it."

Now she was in trouble. She hadn't actually thought that Vasey had believed her to be in need of this sort of help and would have vetoed the request upon hearing it. She was absolutely speechless. That was why it was one of the greatest of all reliefs when they reached her door.

"Thank you for escorting me," she said simply, trying not to draw her arm away as hastily as she really wanted to.

"You're welcome," he nodded, "Good night, my lady."

"Good night, Sir Guy."

With that she opened her door and rushed in, pressing her back against it once it had been shut and sighing with relief. She could only thank God that it was over... and curse Vasey for arranging for her do it again tomorrow.

After the door closed behind Mariella, Sir Guy had a feeling that the girl was not exactly fond of him. What was he doing wrong? The Sheriff had given him orders to monitor her. In order to do that he would have to start spending a lot of time with her. In order to do that she would have to learn to trust him. How could he manage that if she was always cowering away from him? He would have to come up with a plan so that they could become acquainted on a more sociable level… but how could a man like him ever manage such a feat? What did women like? What would help her trust him? It seemed as if the outing was the only way to solve the problem. There was no other choice.

It did worry him, though. Mariella wasn't the least bit partial to him and Guy wasn't about to learn how to socialize any time soon. However, it wasn't him that needed to learn to invest trust. It was her. She was the one that needed to adjust. If either of them were to survive this, they either had to learn to feel comfortable around each other or suffer out this partnership until it ended.


	10. Late Night, Early Morning

**Chapter Ten: Late Night, Early Morning**

The dim glow had lingered far too long in the distant window, but it did not measure near the length of time the hooded figure in the garden's shadows had hidden in waiting. He only had to wait a little longer… a little longer… a little longer… a little longer and he could go to her. Finally, the light was snuffed and all was still. Now was his chance to move in. As silent as the night he moved across the gardens, his cloak trailing behind him as he silently slipped into the castle, sneaking through the corridors unseen and unnoticed. Up the stairs, in the shadows to avoid guards. Well, most of them at least. There was a guard on each end of the hall where her bedroom door was… Two more stationed right at it. That ruled out taking the front entrance; there were too many to outmaneuver, distract, or get rid of. That means he would have to find another way entirely.

* * *

It felt so wonderful to finally lie down and rest in such a comfortable bed. Never before had Mariella ever lain on a feather-filled bed. The closest she had ever gotten to beds such as this before was making them. She had never thought that they could be so soft. Mariella imagined that this was what lying on a cloud must have felt like, wrapped in a soothing comfort as she lay down to sleep. The weight of the covers snuggly hugged her and slowly let sleep soak in, turning her eyelids into lead. Dazed delusion was creeping into her mind as it pulled her into the sleeping world, but it vanished when a sudden sound brought her back into the waking world. What was that? A bump? A scratch? No. A footstep. Wait… It was in the room! Her head popped off the pillow, only to meet with a hand over her mouth, pushing her back down. She screamed for help but it was to no avail. No one could come to her aid. Her hands flew to the one that was clasped at her mouth, trying to claw and pry it off, but she was too weak. She was defenseless. Tears sprang from her eyes as this became frighteningly clear to her. "Please stop screamin'," the hooded figure whispered, "I'm not here to hurt you."

Regardless of his words Mariella couldn't help but whimper even though the tears' flow was weakening. She had stopped trying to remove the hand from her mouth by now and her hands simply lingered on his, not trusting this man enough to simply leave it there. The invader took the quieting as a good sign. "I'm going to take my hand away now," he warned, "Can I trust you not to scream?"

Mariella gave a nod as she tried to blink away the layer of water in her eyes. The man carefully drew away his hand as if he half expected her call for help despite her promise. When she did nothing but sit up in her bed, he let out a sigh and reached up to remove his hood, revealing short blonde hair and eyes that twinkled even in the darkness of her bedroom. As she studied him in the seconds when her lips were freed, the first question they formed was: "Who are you?"

"Haven't heard of me, have you?" he smiled. Mariella noticed that his voice was now much more light and playful now that he wasn't faced with the risk of being ratted out.

This confused Mariella, causing her brow to knit instantly. "Should I have?" she inquired.

The man laughed. "I don't know," he answered, "You're new to the area, so I don't blame you, but livin' in _this_ castle I would assume that you would have."

"Who are you?" she questioned again, this time much more demanding.

"I'm Robin Hood," he whispered secretively, "I'm your dear Sheriff's greatest threat."

Warnings of her first day here came jolting back. Remembering what Vasey had told her about "politics", Mariella froze and stiffened. "What do you want?" she finally brought herself to say.

"Your help," he answered, "I need a spy on the inside who can interact with the Sheriff."

This request required a moment's pause in order for Mariella to sort her jumbled thoughts so that she could conjure up a calm and collected response. "You are asking me… to betray a man who is very dear to me so that I can help his worst enemy, a man that I know nothing about."

"Well, if you put it like that-"

"Give me one reason why I shouldn't scream right now."

"Because if you decide to help me and my men, then it will do a great deal of good for the people of Sherwood."

This time Mariella stayed silent not out of contemplation, but because she was struck so hard with this news that she didn't know exactly what to think or say.

"What exactly is it that you do?" Mariella interrogated, "What is it you do that has earned you such detestation from my lord?"

"To put it simply… I steal from the rich and give to the poor."

"You steal from the rich and give to the poor?" she repeated, "Are you aware that doing that is an injustice?"

"What the real injustice is the Sheriff's outrageous taxes," Robin argued, "If you could just see the poverty that they are forced to live in because of the Sheriff then I'm sure you would want to do something too."

"Honestly, I can't imagine how stealing from the tax collectors helps," Mariella pointed out, "If they lose money, you are only giving them reason to tax the citizens even more to regain money lost."

"Well, since you know so much I suppose I should ask you what I _should_ be doing."

"Treat the disease, not the symptoms," she answered innocently. It was something that her mother had told her often as a child.

"You're absolutely right," Robin nodded, "Poverty is the worst symptom of having a corrupted sheriff, so in order to 'treat the disease' as you might say, we'll have to get rid of the Sheriff."

"Sir Robin, if you keep up with this sort of talk I'm going to scream…"

"What?" he asked, "I'm going to dethrone him with or without your help but like you, I don't want to have to resort to violence against him but if you help me, we can avoid it."

"Violence?" she repeated, "What sort of violence?"

"Breaking into castles, armed, ready to defend and attack—"

"If you think threats are going to get you any further in convincing me—"

"These are not threats, my lady," Robin argued, "They're warnin's. The Sheriff must be stopped and soon."

"When I see that the Sheriff needs to be stopped I'll get back to you."

"That should be easy enough to see," Robin scoffed, "Simply take a walk outside the castle and when you do look at the people. Really look at them."

Mariella nodded. "I will," she said, "And if I make a decision how will I contact you?"

"You won't," he told her, "We will contact you."

With that the cloaked figure stood and went to the window and disappeared out of it. Mariella didn't go to investigate where he was going. Instead she fell back into her pillow and fell asleep instantly.

* * *

It took Mariella a few minutes to realize where she was when she woke that morning. The first thing she thought to herself was, _'Where is everyone?'_ Her mind responded to her question with a flashback of a cloaked figure in the darkness, silencing her and sneaking off like a creature of the night. Had he even been real? Or could he have been a dream? Perhaps that was it! Yes… that must have been it… right? Well, even if it hadn't been a dream, Mariella didn't want to think about it. It was only now that she realized that there was no figure here that she understood how utterly alone she was at that moment. Never before had she woken up alone. Since her earliest memories she had always had someone nearby when she opened her eyes every day. First, it had been her family but as they began to fade away, she at least had fellow servants. Now even they were gone. There was no one. No other living being stirring from sleep to encourage her to do the same. No cheery smile to wish her welcome. No sweet voice to perk her up. No disturbances to bother her when all she wanted was sleep. Mixed feelings formed in her heart as she realized the loss of interruptions and sharing. It was her first day of nobility and she was already beginning to realize that it was also a cross to bear.

Mariella banished the thought from her mind. She wouldn't let herself think that way. She was supposed to feel fortunate.

Maybe this wasn't a curse of loneliness but a blessing of privacy! Mariella had never been given privacy before. Hitherto this day she had always resorted to searching for solitude herself, but now that it was open to her at all times, she could almost think herself grateful! With this thought in mind, she smiled to herself and turned over in her bed, the chirping of the birds outside beginning to bring her into full mental awareness gently and sweetly.

And then the commotion came.

"Mariella!" Laura chimed as she burst into the lady's bedroom, "Time to get up! We need to get you ready for your day with Sir Guy."

Slowly Mariella sat up in her bed and gently stretched. "What time is it?" she asked as she rubbed the sleep out of her eyes.

"Nine o'clock, you sleepy head," Laura laughed, "Now get out of bed before Sir Guy has to come up here and get you himself."

"Wait… What?" Mariella gasped, seeming to become more alert with every second that passed, "What are you talking about?"

"Sir Guy is taking you on a tour of the area! Didn't he tell you?"

The invitation of last night suddenly clicked her memory as she remembered that Guy had indeed warned her of this. Mariella suddenly became terrified with concern at hearing this as she threw back the covers and swung her legs around to sit on the edge of the mattress. "Is he waiting now?" she asked as she sprang up.

"For goodness sake no," Laura chuckled, "But if we don't start getting you ready now then one thing will lead to another and we'll take too long and then we just might keep him waiting."

"Oh…" came the groggy response as Mariella lied down again and pulled the covers over her head to hide herself from the world in hopes that she could go back to sleep. "I'm not feeling well enough for a field day with that man." Her words were muffled. "Just politely tell him that I'm not up to it today."

"Aw… What's wrong?" Laura frowned with false sympathy, "Fever? Upset stomach? Head pains?"

"I just feel sick to my stomach at the thought of spending an entire day with him…"

"Well, it seems that you've got two options to feel better," Laura considered, "Either you can get up and get ready for your outing, or I can call the doctor and he can give you an assortment of treatments that could vary from disgusting and fowl medicines to leeches."

Green eyes reminiscent of a worried child's peeked out from under the blankets. "Leeches?" she repeated in a truly meek tone.

"Yep," Laura grinned, confident that she had swayed the young woman, "Lots of 'em. All over your arms and legs."

Biting her lip, she thought over her options. Guy… or leeches? The choice was obvious so he pulled the covers back over her head and exclaimed, "Call the doctor!"

"C'mon!" Laura whined, "He told me to make sure that you were ready by eleven!"

"Then we have at least two hours. At least let me wake up a bit longer."

"Nope. You're getting up and you're getting ready."

Then there was a knock at the door. Laura immediately went to answer it, only to have Mark make an entrance with a tray of food. "Breakfast," he smiled as he set the meal down on a nearby table.

Staring at the man as he set out the dishes, Mariella couldn't help but wonder out loud, "What is going on here?"

"What do you mean?" he questioned, "I'm just here to help Laura get you out of bed by bringing a friend some breakfast."

"Friends don't bring friends breakfast when they don't even want it, especially when they gang up on said friend to work towards a certain hidden goal."

"What are you talking about?" Mark asked, "What hidden goal? I'm just bringing you breakfast. She's the one that wants to pretty you up for Gisborne!"

"Shut up, Mark!" Laura scolded, "That is not what I'm trying to do."

"It's not, is it?" Mariella asked with her arms folded, tapping her fingers on her slight bicep, "Then how is it that he knew that you were trying to get me out of bed to see Sir Guy?"

"Because… I told him…" Laura admitted, "But I swear that I did not tell him that I needed to 'pretty you up'."

"You told him?" the Italian accepted in what seemed to be a persuaded tone, however, it was only a matter of seconds before she was able to unravel her friends' lie. "If you told him, then why would he bring me breakfast if it wasn't to help you get me out of bed to go out with Sir Guy? And if he is helping you then wouldn't it be natural that he would know your part of the job and if he did know your part of the job and he stated that it was to 'pretty me up' then I can only assume that that was what your plan was originally. So, if that is what you have come to do, then that begs the question: Why would you want that at all?"

This and more she **_could_** have said, but if anyone had learned that it could prove useful to not share knowledge right away it was Mariella. It was better to be surprised when it all unraveled anyway. So, instead of revealing what she knew, she simply sighed surrender. "Fine," she said, "I'll go. But I don't think I'll be able to eat a bite of that food."

"Why not?" Mark asked, seeming to take personal offense to it, "What's wrong with it?"

"Nothing," Mariella reassured him, "It's just that I'm probably going to be sick to my stomach if I'm going to have to spend an entire day with Gisborne."


	11. Running Out of Season

**Chapter Eleven: Running Out of Season**

As Mariella hurried down the hall she couldn't help but wonder where time had gone. One moment she had been going along at a very steady and acceptable pace, the next everything was going wrong and distant bells were tolling the eleventh hour. Where had the time gone? Now here she was, rushing through the castle, being careful not to trip over the skirt of her blue dress, on her way to meet with Sir Guy of Gisborne, Lord of Locksley, whom she saw pacing in the courtyard just beyond the open door before her.

"I am sorry," she announced with that accent that was so thick she felt that it felt more like a heavy mask than a necessary ruse, "I make you wait."

"It's alright," Guy answered after he had turned to greet her, giving her a quick up-down as he spoke, "You're hardly late. In fact your horse was just now brought out." Guy then gestured to the nearby honey palomino that was waiting patiently for its rider.

Mariella allowed a genuine smile to shine through her mask the moment she saw the idle creature. "Beautiful…" Mariella commented as she went over to pet the horse's face and neck, "What is its name?"

"Gardenia," Guy replied as he took a couple steps over to his own horse, a black charger that was as dark as a moonless night.

"Gardenia…" Mariella repeated, "She is a girl then?"

"She is," he answered as he took the reins of his horse in hand and then stepped briefly to its side, "Shall we go?"

Mariella nodded in response. She went to Gardenia's side to find a horror. The saddle was designed for aside riding, something she had only attempted once or twice in her life. Briefly she looked around for a mounting block but before she could search for too long, a nearby guard kneeled so that Mariella could use his leg as a sort of stair in order to mount. Using this kind of aid was something that Mariella had never done before and did not care to do now. It would feel too much like she were degrading the man at her feet. "My lady…" the guard called as he waited, "You should hurry."

Somehow she brought herself to nod and place her slipper on his thigh now that she had been urged to do so, being as careful and as quick as she could to not remain there too long.

Now, although Mariella had not done this many times before, she was thankful for the little practice that she had been offered in the past because this was the first time ever that she had ever been able to perfectly perform a mount that ended in the side saddle position. She breathed a soft sigh of relief at the accomplishment, happy that she had dodged a potentially embarrassing moment. After Mariella was settled in the seat of her saddle, the same guard that had helped her up handed her Gardenia's reins and then got onto his own steed, followed by two other guards. At first Mariella thought that the other men would have left at this point to perform their duties, but when they did not move she realized that they were waiting for Guy and her. "What is this?" Mariella asked Guy, "Why are we needing them?"

"It's just a precaution," Guy explained, having already gotten into his own saddle, "You can just ignore them."

To just ignore three human beings and pretend like they weren't there wasn't something Mariella was good at, but she didn't argue. In the end she knew that she would have no say in whether these men stayed or went. She remained quiet as one of the men led the way out of the courtyard, who her horse followed, then another guard, which was followed by Guy, and finally the last guard. This was the formation that they took through town. It was as they were heading to the outer wall that Mariella realized that she didn't like riding through a crowd. She felt a pang of guilt being so high up when everyone else was down below where she should also have been. The passing faces would occasionally look up at her. She looked back at them. Seeing the peasants below her, so many sad and tattered, she was reminded of the night before. A deep frown formed on her countenance as she was reminded that she hadn't lived outside of a castle in ten years. Were all villages so destitute? She had never taken into account how other peasants lived. It made her feel spoiled… ashamed. Fortunately it was over in a matter of minutes as they were released through the bordering wall, past a field, and into the wood. Here she could forget what she had just seen if she tried hard enough.

Once out of the walls, Guy trotted his horse forward so that it was now to the left Mariella's. For a few moments the maiden thought that her escort did so in order to say something to her, but he never did. He simply rode on next to her, staring intently at the path ahead save for the occasional glance over in her direction. A calm silence it may have been, but it made Mariella feel almost impatient as she wondered when this bonding venture would begin to take effect. It was then that she thought of the fact that Guy was not a very good conversationalist. If anything would be said, it was going to have to be her attempt that sparked it. However, the extra company that traveled with them made it problematic to try to converse with Guy of Gisborne. It was impossible for her to communicate with a third party listening in. But what could she do to convince Guy that she needed the men to get gone?

She lifted her gaze from the spot at the back of Gardenia's neck where she had been staring to look over at Guy. "Were three men really needed?" she asked him as she focused her gaze forward and not on the man beside her.

Guy eyed her curiously after hearing this, but only for a moment. After having his glance he once again looked before him and continued the conversation, "The Sheriff insisted. I'm sure he had your best interests in mind."

Suddenly one of the rear guards' horse gave a whinny and rushed up to occupy the vacancy of the path on Mariella's right.

"What is it?" Guy interrogated as he looked backward to search for the source of the commotion.

"I'm not sure, m'lord," the guard confessed, "It wasn't me that spurred him. I'll try to keep him under control, sir."

"Very well," Guy nodded, "Back to your station then."

Hastily the guard obeyed, falling back to his original position.

"Anyway…" Guy started, only to be cut off as his own horse unexpectedly nudged Gardenia and gave a low whinny that was similar to the preceding horse's.

Guy automatically pulled his stallion away to separate the two creatures. "What is going on here?" he asked, not expecting the instant answer that he received.

"I think I know what might be wrong, my lord," the other guard announced from behind, "It's the lady's horse, Gardenia. I think she might be… in season."

"In season?" Mariella repeated, as she looked back at him with a high face.

"It's when a mare is-"

"I know what it means," Mariella cut off the guard to speak before he could expand his explanation. Maybe if Mariella had been born to the high life she would not known what this meant, but having been born a servant she was well aware of different aspects of different fields and that included the field of horse breeding. A mare 'in season' would usually need to either be separated from other horses or paired with a compatible mate. They couldn't risk a prize mare baring anything but the best offspring, after all. "I was just surprised. How do the other horses know?" One thing the stable master had never bothered to explain.

Meanwhile the other guard began chastising his peer for almost going into detail about inappropriate subject matter.

"It's the scent," Guy answered without so much as a second thought regarding the two men following behind, "The smells of town must have been covering it up before, but now that we're out in the open…"

"Should we turn back, my lord?" one of the guards asked, "It might get tricky controlling the horses."

"No," Mariella replied before Guy could, "I have a better idea."

With that she swung one of her legs over to the opposite side so that she was now sitting astride in the saddle and before anyone could say anything to stop her, Mariella had given Gardenia a nice kick that sent her racing off. If there was one thing that Mariella knew about the attraction between male and female it was that it took energy. Take that energy away and…

"Lady Mariella!" Guy called after her, but she was already racing on her way and there was no stopping her. "Wait here!" he ordered the others before he dug his heels into his steed to go after the fleeing girls, calling after Mariella as he went.

She did not stop, however, but kept galloping on through the trees, having left the road behind long ago. The cries to stop weren't even noticed by her until much later and even then she didn't stop to obey them. Instead she decided to defy Sir Guy of Gisborne further, leading him wherever she wanted to go and giving him no choice but to follow. Truth be told, she didn't even know where she was going. The only thing that she knew was that she had to get away from those guards and since her words were always wasted, she'd done the only thing that she knew that could get results she wanted: she took action.

Any spot away from listening ears would have done for Mariella to settle down, but she just happened to pick a large clearing that held a single lone tree. This is where she stopped, dismounted, and began to tether her horse to a branch, shortly followed by Guy himself.

"Mariella!" Guy scolded as he tried to calm his horse after having come to a stop, "Lady Mariella, what do you think you are doing?"

"I was just running Gardenia out of season so that she wouldn't be a problem anymore," Mariella explained innocently as she lovingly stroked the panting animal's neck, "The fact that it got us alone was simply a bonus. Now we can talk better."

"Talk better?" Guy huffed with annoyance, "You ran away from your bodyguards into unknown territory that is filled with criminals and who knows what other dangers just so that your horse would behave and we could 'talk better'?"

"You are the one that wanted to improve our relationship," Mariella pointed out, "I am simply doing it on my terms."

"Well, your terms are not protocol so we are going back… now!" Guy ordered rather than demanded. There was no way of saying no, but for once Mariella did it anyway, something that took him completely by surprise. He was already angry. She might as well get what she wanted.

"If you make me go back to them then I swear I will not utter another word for the rest of the trip!" she threatened.

"Why are you being so difficult?" he growled.

"Why is it so bad if we're alone together?" she retorted

To this Guy had no answer that he could openly confess. He couldn't tell her any solid reason why they couldn't stay and spend their day here instead of with the unit of men, besides the flimsy excuse that it wasn't decent. He also knew that he personally didn't want to give any reason. He had no objection to being alone with her. "Very well," he surrendered as he dismounted and led his horse over to be hitched to a tree branch, "But we can only stay here a little while. We don't want the guards worrying and going for needless help."

"Agreed," Mariella smiled, glad to have finally beaten Guy into submission. It was always her stubbornness that won her victories which was why she never pulled it out. She was afraid to use it constantly for fear of abusing it. That was why she only applied it when she was passionate about something.

Guy went to his saddlebag and pulled out a blanket that he brought over to the other side of the tree to put down in the shade. Mariella quickly went to help stretch the borders and to get rid of any folds or wrinkles. Once this was accomplished, both parties took a seat on the blanket. Having now settled beneath the tree, alone and able to talk much easier, a silence filled the foot of distance between them. After all that trouble, neither could think of anything to say.


	12. Let It Fall

**Chapter Twelve: Let It Fall**

"So… tell me about yourself," Mariella requested, finally able to say the first few words that would hopefully finally begin their first conversation of the day.

"What exactly do you want to know?" Guy responded in an attempt to gather information so that he could form answers that might entertain her.

"I don't know…" Mariella answered, keeping her eyes cast to the grass as she pondered the question, only to look up at Guy's profile when she could better explain, "Your likes. Your dislikes. Your life thus far. What you hope to accomplish in the future. Anything."

"Could you honestly tell me all of those things as they pertain to you?" Guy questioned who, for some reason, found such aspects difficult to describe, especially in accordance to him.

"Yes," Mariella confirmed with confidence that surprised Guy.

"Then you go first," he offered as he looked over at her from the corner of his eye.

A pause followed the request before Mariella nodded and began. "Very well," she said, "I like to sing when I think no one is listening. I dislike… being told to do something when I feel that I have no obligation to, even though I'll probably end up doing it anyway. And my life…" She gave a small sigh at the thought. "Well, my mother is dead, I don't know who my father is, my sister left the family after getting married, and my brother is out and about somewhere."

Guy had to take a moment to take the last bit of information in, trying to find some way to reply to it. "'Out and about'?" he repeated as he dared to look over at the melancholy girl, "What exactly does that mean?"

"It means that I haven't seen him in seven years and have had no contact with him for five."

"Oh…" he said as he looked away again, "I'm sorry to hear that."

"It's fine," Mariella said as she pulled on her smiling mask once more in attempts to brighten the mood, "I know that he's just fine because that's the way he is. He was always able to take care of himself."

There was another brief pause before Mariella was able to move forward with the conversation with the conversation. "So what about you?" she began, "Do you have any siblings?"

"Me?" Guy replied as he barely glanced over at her, "No. I was an only child."

"And what of your parents?"

"Dead," he stated matter-of-factly.

"Oh… I'm sorry to hear that…"

"It's alright," he reassured her, beginning to shift from a sitting position to one in which he was lying down on his side, supporting himself on his forearm so that he could look up at her, "It happened a long time ago."

Yet again they hit a roadblock, neither sure which direction to go next. That's when Mariella pulled out the one thing that she could think of, "It's a beautiful day out."

"It is," Guy concurred, "The rewards of the rains will most likely continue to grow. Come May I would imagine that this field would be worth revisiting."

"Then we should," Mariella stated as she looked about, somehow able to imagine what this place might soon look like with flower patches scattered across it. Already a few species were beginning to push up through the ground, even though not all were in bloom.

"Excuse me, my lady?" Guy questioned as he turned to look at her with a knitted brow.

Steadily and bravely Mariella turned to return Guy's gaze as she repeated, "We should come back in May."

It took Guy a moment and a pessimistic heavy sigh before he could come up with a response to this and when it did come out it came slowly and reluctantly, "I'm… not sure if May would be the best time for us, my lady."

"Why not?" Mariella inquired, "You said it yourself: This field will be worth revisiting in May, so why shouldn't we?"

"Because I know it would be a waste of your May," he admitted, "Visiting flower fields and taking walks together in May is more suited for a man and a woman who…" Guy paused in search of a word that would fit this delicate situation. "…fancy each other. Besides… I'm sure that you would rather spend May with a man who would admire your beauty instead of the beauty of the flowers."

Mariella didn't say anything for a good few seconds. She was beginning to grow accustomed to compliments, but the idea that someone would actually fancy her was a concept that was hard for her to grasp. The two simply sat and awkwardly searched the other's expression for some kind of understanding as to what they could be thinking about, but nothing could be ciphered and so they gave up. In the end it was the female of the two that came up with what to say next. "What makes you so sure of that?" she asked him, "What makes you think that it pleases me to hear a man tell me that I am beautiful?"

"Isn't that what every woman wants?" Guy pointed out as he looked up at her.

"Well, that is hardly the case with me," she contradicted, "Any man can tell a woman that she is beautiful so I am not impressed by it."

"Then what would it take for a man to catch your fancy if not by flattering and wooing you?"

"That is entirely my affair, Sir Guy," Mariella pointed out, "But… it wouldn't be so much as what he did or said so much as how he acted around me. I think that is a very important factor to pay attention to when falling in love."

"Is there already a man that acts to your liking then?" Guy asked with a raised brow, secretly hoping that she hadn't fallen in love without the Sheriff's permission.

"That is my secret," Mariella pouted, "and you shouldn't be asking unless you are truly interested."

"You're right," he forfeited, "My apologies. I shouldn't have asked."

"You are forgiven," Mariella reassured him, "But now I only find it fair that I ask you a similar question."

Guy raised his brow in disbelief as he awaited the inquest, wondering whether she could possibly go as far as to ask about his love affairs.

"You don't seem like the compassionate sort. Is it possible for you to fall in love?"

"I think that is a question that you too shouldn't be asking," Guy defended, warding off the inquiry without so much as a second thought.

Mariella quickly looked away from him, bowing her head and muttering apologies. Guy sighed… but then he noticed something that he hadn't before. He hadn't once found fault in her speaking ever since they had arrived in this place. "My lady…" he commented slyly, "Your English… It seems to have been improving by leaps and bounds lately."

Her eyes widened at the mistake Guy had discovered. She had been speaking normally this entire time! How could she be so stupid as to forget such a crucial detail? However, he said no more on the subject. Neither did she. She could only stare at him, wondering what he would do with this information.

This was a time to include yet another brief wordless break between to two. It inspired a simple realization in Mariella that there was a need to change the subject and quickly. A simple observation was her inspiration for the change. Little did she know that this simple observation would turn into something much more. "Those clouds are coming in quickly," she said as she looked up to see said clouds beginning to block the afternoon sun.

"You're right…" Guy observed as he sat up, "I think we should go."

"Why? They're just clouds." Then, as if on cue, it began to rain down on them from those very clouds. At that moment, Mariella's laughter rang out at the turn of events, like a melody that followed the percussion of the droplets that fell around her. It was so pristine that Guy had to stop in his fleeing in order to scrutinize the smiling Italian girl as the tears of heaven rained down on her glowing face, revealing it to be not only innocently beautiful but angelic. "You're right!" she smiled at the sudden turn of events, "Let's go."

With that they both arose in even-minded haste. Mariella headed to her horse to untie her, but just as the reins came free from the branch she felt Guy's hands fall firmly on her shoulders as they placed the sitting blanket around her to better protect her from the rain. His hands lingered just too long enough to give her cause to turn to face him and investigate what he was on about. At seeing such surreal searching eyes, petrifaction spread through her body in reaction to the emotion she found in his gaze.

This reaction suited Guy satisfactorily for as he stared down at such purity he developed as much intention to move as she.

This was the first moment that Mariella ever realized that she was no longer scared of Guy of Gisborne for it was also the first time that she looked into his eyes and saw, not that they were sharp and piercing—for they were strikingly sharp and piercing—but that where she had known only grey before she now saw beautiful explosions of genteel blue that revealed to her a more human side to their owner. It was an absolute phenomenon to Mariella that she was able to look past her fear into those rippling pools and feel content to stay stone still as she studied their every detail. She scrutinized them so intently that she finally noticed how much she was taking in. Her eyes were large with wonder as she couldn't help but marvel at the ignorance that she had possessed of him only moments before she had turned to look at him. In those few moments, her perspective of him had changed drastically. It made her wonder that if she had missed this much in his eyes, what else could she have missed in the rest of him? Fascinated, she observed how the rain dampened his raven black hair and made it cling to his face before the water ran down it, slowing as it reached the rough shadow of his cheek only to glide down a jaw that she now saw to be very attractive in its masculinity. The water then traveled down to where it dripped off of a chin that was no match for attention when so near to such a pleading mouth. Still, even as wanting as that mouth might have been, those eyes that continued to draw her in were even more so, warming her thoroughly for that one moment even as soaking rain poured onto her head and down her face. Those eyes took her breath away.

Slowly Guy began a movement, reaching up for the blanket that hung so lifelessly around Mariella's shoulders, taking a side in each hand to better secure it. Instinctively her own hands went to take the blanket in hand to hold it, but they instantly shot away when they made contact with him. Quickly he withdrew his hands and she tightly took hold of the blanket around her, looking away as she finally began to feel the drops of rain falling down on her. With that Guy left her to go tend to his own horse, leaving Mariella's gaze to follow him shamelessly as the effects of that previous spell began to fade. Guy's head hung so far down as he worked that it was clear that he wouldn't even so much as dare to look up at Mariella again. The rain seemed to begin to fall heavier now and it formed a wall of water between her and Gisborne, severing the connection that had just been flowing so fluidly and strong between them. Mariella was free of the stoic spell while the feeling of desire was now replaced by shame. Quickly she mounted her horse, followed by Guy only moments after. The most he allowed himself to give her at this point was reserved for a quick glance in her direction to double check that she was ready to go. Once this was confirmed he wasted no time in spurring his horse onward and back into the forest, Gardenia heeling closely behind.

It was a rough ride that they went through, the horses desperately racing towards home and their riders fighting their way through the downpour. Guy led the way and Gardenia followed closely behind. Mariella hardly had to do anything to guide the beast. The only thing that she had to concentrate on was to hold on with all her might to avoid falling off. Everything was going by so quickly. The rain stung her face as she cut through it, making it nearly impossible to keep her eyes open to see where she was going as she constantly blinked water away. It was a miracle that Guy could navigate his way through the storm with such confidence, weaving in, out, and around the forest's trees. It was a small comfort for Mariella to know that she had him as a guide. He was obviously much better suited for such conditions than she.

The confidence that Mariella trusted in Guy's ability was so strong that the only things that she worried about the entire ride were falling off her seat and losing the blanket in such a frantic flight. But as long as Guy was in sight and kept an unchanged rhythm, she would have no fear. She trusted him and she trusted him rightly so because he was able to lead Gardenia and her rider safely back to the stables, bringing both horses to a shuffling stop once in the safety of its shelter.

Mariella didn't dismount immediately, though. Now that she was safe and stationary within the dimly lit structure she noticed her heart beating so softly that that it seemed like she had reason to question whether it was there at all. It was as if her body was filled with swiftly moving clouds that drifted through her veins. She had to take a moment to collect herself after that experience, letting her heart stop rushing and allow her mind settle once more as she slowly came down from the adrenaline rush. It had been like no escape she had ever partaken in before. It was so very overwhelming that she could hardly think.

"My lady?" Gisborne called, suddenly making Mariella realize that he had approached her horse and was now standing beside it, looking up at her with gaining concern through eyes that softly glowed in the lack of light, "Are you alright?"

"I just feel… light headed," she explained, "I'll be fine in a few minutes."

"Let me help you down," he offered with ready helping hands.

Slowly and carefully Mariella swung her leg to his side and without protest or hesitation let him take her waist to help ease her descent. It felt strange to have her feet on the earth again. She was weather worn. She was more tired than she had first realized. Her heart was feeling weaker than her head, but she was feeling better now that her feet were on solid ground once more. It was as if her energy was slowly seeping back into her veins… slowly.

"Better?" Guy asked as he tried to make eye contact with her downcast greens, moving a lock of wet hair out of her face and letting his hand rest on the side of her head. Her hair was no longer styled, but fell in wet, wavy locks on her shoulders, making Mariella look like a completely different woman than the one that Guy was accustomed to seeing. He had to constantly reassure himself that she was indeed the same woman, though drastically altered by the weather.

Mariella raised her tired gaze to him, looking up with a furrowed brow, which soon began to soften after looking into his face. As his hair was drying it was beginning to weave in solid messy strands in front of his face. A nod answered him with a weak whisper: "My hair pin fell out."

"We can replace it," he assured her quietly, relocating his hand to stroke her cheek. She obviously wasn't well and that worried him greatly.

Then came a pause that was like no other that had ever preceded those between the man and woman. A sweet and gentle silence it was that made Mariella's heart beat so hard that she had no more doubt that it had gone missing. It was pounding proof that it was alive and present and it gave her the desire and courage to keep her eyes ever on Guy's face, even though it scared her to do so. However, when he moved his hand to stroke her cheek again it elated her senses and quickened her pulse even further. Then as the slight parting of Guy's lips caught her attention, her heart consequently disappeared again into an interior storm that welled up in her chest. At first Mariella thought that her heartbeat was lost again, but then she found it as it was trying escape her chest by shooting up her throat and taking refuge in her ears. It became the only thing she could hear, the only thing that she could even acknowledge besides him. Her hand was slow and reluctant as it reached up to gently clear Guy's wet strands of hair from his face, smiling weakly as she did so. He seemed so incredibly changed from the man that she had first seen sitting in Vasey's office… But it was that little amount of contact with him that brought her back to the physical world and she was suddenly reminded that they were standing in a dark stable on the grounds of the castle. Nottingham Castle… Her Uncle Vasey's castle… The castle in which she lived. She instantly tore her eyes away from him as she gained the sense of shame that she earlier had not possessed, causing him to also understand what was occurring between them so that he knew to follow suit by lowering his hand and averting his eyes. "I'll go… put the horses away…" he told her in a low voice as he helped adjust and tighten the blanket that had miraculously stayed around her shoulders through the storm's gallop, "You should get inside and dry off." It was obvious that he was more ashamed than ever.

"Yes… Good idea." It took all her might to break the bond that was keeping her there and closer to him, but once she did Mariella found it all too easy to hurry away from that place before he could do anything to pull her back. As she went, Mariella found that the only things that were racing faster than her legs could inconspicuously carry her were her thoughts. They went by so quickly that she couldn't even differentiate one from another. Most of them weren't even complete. They were all snippets of how her mind described what she was feeling.

_'This can't happen…'_

_'What was I thinking?'_

_'What was he…?'_

_'How…?'_

_'I never…'_

_'But what if...?'_

_'No, this can't happen!'_

It was only in the safety of her room that she allowed herself to admit that deep within her quivering heart she knew the cold of the rain wasn't what was to blame for her haste or her current shivering. No. It was Sir Guy of Gisborne's face that haunted her heart.


	13. Explain Yourself

**Chapter Thirteen: Explain Yourself**

It was a mesmerizing trance Mariella put herself under as she watched the flickering flames of her fireplace, slowly brushing her hair out as she did so. Watching the fire cleared her mind and made her forget about that strange string of events, but only for moments at a time. What had happened? How could things progress from trickling conversation to finding it difficult to breathe, put under a spell by a pair of grey eyes?

A knock on her door interrupted her thoughts. She rose from her spot to answer it. It was Mark, which confused Mariella as to why he would be visiting her room.

"Hello, Mark," she greeted, "Can I help you with something?"

"The Sheriff wants to talk to you," he told her simply.

"Thank you…" Mariella told him with a nod and with that he was off without another word, which she found very strange. Usually he was more sociable than that. This briefness worried Mariella slightly, wondering what could have put him in such a mood. She closed the door again, and went to her vanity to quickly tie up her hair in a loose ponytail and then it was off to the Sheriff's study. Once there she raised her hand to knock, but just before it made contact with the wood, the door handle clicked on the other side and opened to reveal Guy of Gisborne standing in the doorway. "My lord," Mariella briefly greeted, only able to glance at him before quickly darting out of the way.

"My lady," he returned just as rushed as she while taking the opening she'd made to exit down the hallway with a hurried pace. Mariella couldn't help but watch him walk away, finding some sort of comfort that he was feeling just as awkward as she was. Then he was gone in an instant.

"Mariella!" the Sheriff called from inside, "Come here, girl! I called for you ages ago!"

Mariella turned, answering her godfather's beckons. Vasey accepted her inside, closing the door behind her and taking a seat at his desk.

"You wanted to see me?"

"Yes, I did," he confirmed as he settled at his desk, shuffling some pieces of parchment around to tidy it up, "How did your day with Gisborne go?"

"Good…" Mariella answered with a hint of confusion in her eyes as she wondered why Vasey was asking about it. What concern of his was it?

"Good, good," he nodded as he finally looked up at her with a cheery smile on his face, "Was it even better than it would have been with the guards present?"

"My lord?" Mariella asked innocently seeming a little confused.

"You ran from the guards today," he rephrased the question into a statement as he laced his fingers together and placed his elbows on his desk, "Care to explain why?"

"I needed to tire my horse," she defended.

"Did you?" he asked, the smile disappearing from his face as it became apparent that he wouldn't accept that as an excuse, "Then why didn't you return after your horse was nice and worn out?"

"We did not know how."

Vasey's jaw seemed to clench at this response."I'm having a hard time believing that, Mariella, considering that Gisborne could find his way out of a labyrinth so long as he had known the way he had come in," Vasey countered. He was trying very hard to keep his voice even. "Scratch that… Even if he hadn't known which way he had come in he would get out, so I think he would have been able to find the way back through a forest that he knows better than the back of his hand. Now, I will give you one last chance to tell me the truth and it had better be the truth!"

"Fine!" Mariella cried out of fear of Vasey's oncoming anger, "The truth is… I did not want others around while we talked."

"And why was that?"

"It is hard for me to talk to people when I know others listen."

"Well you should have learned to deal with it," Vasey scolded her, "Running off into the forest away from your designated guard was not very lady-like of you."

"I am sorry…" she almost whimpered, "I am not knowing what else to say."

"Just say that you won't do it again," Vasey insisted as his temper began to boil down back into a controlled clenched jaw.

"Fine," she agreed, "I won't."

"Good," he nodded as he stood from his seat and went over to a chest, "Now, I did get you a gift… but I'm not sure if I should give it to you now." With that he held up a small metal box. "Do you think you deserve it?"

Mariella tried to choose her words wisely before she spoke. She had Vasey's attitude balanced very well at this point and the slightest insolence could tip the scale in the wrong direction. "It is not my choice," she answered, acting as if she was struggling to get the English words out, "Now, it is yours to give."

"Well, I'm not sure how much I'd want it," Vasey pointed out as he held out the gift to his ward. When she did not take it, he opened it himself to show a silver, ellipsoidal locket. "I have nothing to match it, after all," he went on.

Mariella's hand floated towards it, an elegant finger caressing its engraved surface. The metal was dull and tarnishing, but that made its value no less in her eyes. "Uncle Vasey…" she breathed, "I do not know what to say."

"Your silence says it all, my dear," he smiled as he removed the locket from its container and undid the chain's latch, "You deserve it."

"Thank you…" she said as he crossed behind her and lifted the necklace over her head to help her put it on.

"There we are. Let's see it!" He placed his hands on her shoulders and began to turn her around as she took her hair from under the chain. "Good girl," he smiled, "Now, remember to behave yourself. You can think of that as a little reminder to do so. You may go now."

So, Mariella nodded and turned to go. "Ah, ah, ah!" Vasey called after her, "Manners, young lady. You are to thank me for excusing you with a curtsey."

She wasn't quite sure why being told to do this clicked the last piece of the puzzle into place for her, but she was struck with a sudden epiphany. The Sherriff's words quickly soured and turned bittersweet as a ominous shadow crept into the forest green of Mariella's eyes, like a cloud that eliminated all shine, sparkle, and personality that usually resided in them. She dawned her mask once again and dipped into an elegant curtsey. "Yes, my lord," she told him as she came back to a standing position, keeping her darkening eyes on him, "Thank you, my lord." Then she turned on her heel and rushed out of the room as politely as possible.

He had never been like this before. She stopped in her tracks and looked back at the way she had come. Never in her life would she have ever believed that she would walk away from that man with so much gusto. Now here she was, scampering off and clueless as to why she did it . The only hint Mariella had to go on was that she was now inexplicably angered and disappointed with her once near and dear uncle. No… That was not her uncle. That was the Sheriff of Nottingham and Uncle Vasey no more. It was with this depressing discovery that Mariella reached behind her neck, undid the chain's clasp and shot daggers at the trinket with her glare. Every muscle in her arm—in her being—wanted to throw it out the window and yet there was still something that stopped her. This entire time she had seen the signs, but had denied them in hopes that it was unusual behavior, but now she knew. Her Uncle Vasey was gone. He had left her just like everyone else she had ever loved. She lost a cherished uncle to evil, a friend and sister to the chains of marriage, a caring brother to the fight against debt, and a mother, dearly beloved, to disease and oppression. There was no one left to love. She was alone once again.

* * *

"So?" His voice made her sit up in bed and gasp. He hadn't made a sound coming in this time!

"Sir Robin…" Mariella groaned as she lied back down, "Don't scare me like that!"

"My apologies, my lady," he smiled as he took a seat next to her bed, "I'll try to make more of a raucous the next time I sneak into your room."

Again Mariella let out a sigh, now considering the reason why he was here. "How did you know to come?"

"I knew it wouldn't take long for a smart girl like you to figure it out," he replied as he folded his hands and leaned forward in the chair that he had found, "Does this mean that you've made a decision?"

She said nothing for a moment, not knowing the exact answer herself. Was she willing to betray the man she had once known and loved simply because he had changed a little? Maybe he hadn't even changed at all! Maybe that same man was still in there somewhere… somewhere… Who else would have given her the necklace? She just needed to wait long enough and the good man she remembered would hopefully resurface again eventually.

"No," she admitted, "I haven't."

"Then I'll come back tomorrow," he nodded.

Mariella let out moan and covered her eyes. "What makes you think I'll have made up my mind?" she questioned.

"That should be enough time to think it over," he judged.

"And if it's not?"

"Tell you what…" he began, "When you've made up your mind, light a candle and put it in your window. That way we won't bother you until you've made a decision."

Mariella couldn't help but have her doubts about this man's judgment, but she simply nodded regardless.

"Good," Robin smiled, "I will see you soon." With that he headed over to window, swiftly taking his exit and finally leaving Mariella to rest at last.


	14. Changed Yet Unchanged

**Chapter Fourteen: Changed Yet Unchanged**

It was a great comfort to Mariella that even after the preceding day's events that she was able to make it through the morning without thinking of Sir Guy of Gisborne. In fact, it made her quite chipper in the idea that most of her thoughts involved the act of not thinking of him. She took consolation in this for in her mind it signified that nothing had really changed between the two of them beside the fact that she no longer dreaded seeing him. At first she thought of this as a good thing, but as breakfast dragged on and no Gisborne arrived to receive orders from the Sherriff she began to worry. Was it her fault that he came not? Had she done something wrong the other day? Had some effect on him that made him not want to face her? No… Impossible! She didn't have that sort of sway over him. Then again, he had fled from her last night in an extraordinary rush. Maybe… he had taken all of those little happenings—those accidents—as being indications of something serious and thus woke up that morning with that same dread from yesterday. If that was true, Mariella couldn't blame him for avoiding her. If someone were showing signs of attraction towards her, she would run away too. Yet somehow she felt disheartened by his rejection. She had never had her pride injured in such a way as this and she did not like it. Her most adamant thoughts were steadfast in the idea that she felt nothing for him, but it hurt her all the same. What a wicked thing pride was… She now felt sympathy for all the wooing that she had ever before ignored.

"Mariella?" the Sheriff called and yanked her out of her ponderings, "Are you feeling alright?"

"Yes," she nodded, "I… think I am just tired."

"I see…" he responded, "Well, perk up! No one likes a drowsy damsel."

"Yes, my lord," she answered with indifferent recital as her hand reached for a grape. Said piece of fruit was _en route_ to her mouth just as Guy of Gisborne hastily entered the Hall, it was in her mouth when he reached the table, but it hadn't even been bitten by the time Mariella realized who was standing before her. Fortunately for her, she was able to catch her surprise before her jaw was able to drop and thusly send the grape from falling back out of her mouth and hurdling to its doom.

"My lord," he said with a small incline of his body, being extremely careful as to not acknowledge the woman to the Sheriff's left.

"Gisborne!" Vasey greeted, "Sit down! Join us."

"I… would prefer it if we went straight to work," Guy dodged, which didn't help to disprove Mariella's avoidance theory, "I am late enough as it is-"

"Well, _I_ am not done yet so you don't really have a choice in the matter."

And so begrudgingly Guy took a seat to the Sheriff's right, only to find himself sitting across from the very woman that he was trying to get away from.

"How have you been, Mariella?" the Sheriff asked her, "I fear that I haven't been well updated in your goings on as of late. Anything interesting?"

"I have… adjusted well," Mariella began, her accent becoming more beautiful as English words flowed more smoothly than ever, "People have been very kind." She paused at seeing that what she was saying was of no consequence to the Sheriff who seemed more absorbed with his food than with his ward's words. That's when she began to let her eyes wander, letting them more often than not fall onto Guy to try and pick up any signs of discomfort with her. "I want to thank you for Sir Mark, my lord. He is… a good teacher and a good person. I am happy that he teaches me. It makes me glad that I can now talk to people." This time she intentionally looked over at the man across from her and smiled. "Get to know people. Make friends."

She couldn't have been sure, but she might have seen his eyes gain a bit of that spark of interest she had seen the other day. She would have to be careful…

"You hear that, Gisborne? Gratitude!" Then that hated smile of conquest appeared on the Sheriff's face, the one that always made Mariella feel like a coveted prize instead of the daughter she so longed to be, "Well, it's good to hear that you like him. I'm glad you're enjoying learning so much. Now you will be able to socialize at the May celebration coming up."

May Day… Mariella had been dreading it. "Must I go, my lord?" Mariella meekly put forward, "I do not like… gatherings of people I do not know."

"But that is the entire point in going, my dear," Vasey insisted, "To make new friends. You were just saying how you were enjoying that so much."

And just like that Mariella could feel repressions from her past resurfacing. It felt like she was simply an inferior slave once again, taking orders from her lord and master with no other choice but to obey. The only difference between her old life and this new one was that instead of being bound by contract to serve, she was obligated by love and the desire to be loved in return to allow herself to be showcased. "Yes, my lord," she was somehow able to say at a volume that was audible to his ears, which was even more assertive than she felt.

"I'm sure that you will make friends very quickly, my lady," Guy said when he finally spoke in a low tone, but then turned to the Sheriff, "She has a certain… charm, doesn't she?"

"Well, she was always very pleasant as a girl…" Vasey nodded, "But I haven't seen the same energy in her as of late."

"I am not that little girl anymore," Mariella interrupted. It was the first time that she had let her voice have such a sharp edge all morning, even if it was as quiet as ever. "You missed a lot over the years."

"Yes, yes…" he sighed, "The price I pay to climb up in the world. I still find it hard to believe that you're the same girl. Maybe the charm only works in Italian."

"Maybe," Mariella agreed as she cast her shaded green eyes back down to her plate as something vile began to seep into her heart, filling it with fierce resentment focused towards such sorts of repression, "It **_is_** my language." Then she paused and turned to Guy and in a bold and rebellious swipe, she did the one thing that she was forbidden to do: she spoke in her favorite tongue. _"What do you think, Sir Guy? Am I more… appealing now that I'm speaking my own language?"_

"I will have none of that, young lady," Vasey warned her, "I don't want you to ever speak like that again. Now, go back to English."

At this Mariella was tempted to go on, but she knew that picking fights with superiors was never a good thing. She had to force herself to be rational at this point and think of the trouble it would cause her if she went on. It didn't seem below Vasey to punish those who crossed him and she wasn't about to test the assumption simply because she was his charge. It was one blow and now she was done. "Yes... my lord." The English was as bitter as medicine in her mouth. In a desperate attempt to get rid of it, she picked up another grape and popped it into her mouth, chewing it to release the sour juices. A throat clearing from Guy caught Mariella's attention and once more her eyes became serious, even though they were far from hard. She swallowed the grape and turned her attention to him, assuming that he would be a much better conversation keeper. "I am happy to see you are well, Sir Guy," she said as she put on her pretty, cheerful smile. Maybe that would throw the Sheriff off her tail. "I was not sure if the weather would… leave you alone."

"Leave me alone?" Guy asked, a bit confused.

Mariella dared turn to Vasey and speak in Italian even after the previous incident in attempt to try to explain her statement. This time, however, there was little agitation. "Mariella, dear, I think a better phrase would be something like 'leave Gisborne in full health'," the Sheriff corrected, "You were worried whether or not the weather would ail Gisborne."

"Yes," Mariella nodded, "Thank you… my lord." She turned back to Guy. "I am happy to see that the rain did not… _ail_…" She still seemed unsure of the word. "…ail? Yes… ail you."

"Thank you for the concern, my lady," Guy nodded, "But I assure you that I am as healthy as I ever have been."

"It's just that… I am… so used to being visited by the sick or hurt," she explained, "I know how easy it is for one to fall ill. My family is full of doctors, you see."

"Doctors?" Guy repeated, taken aback by the fact. This girl was certainly full of surprises…

"I think 'healers' would be a better term for them," Vasey interrupted, "No medical training. Just information passed down from generation to generation, la-dee-dah. But enough of this garble. I think it's about time we left now. Gisborne… go on ahead. I have a few things I would like to speak with Mariella about privately." That same nervous anxiety that Mariella knew so well when faced impending news filled her. At this point she wouldn't doubt if he was upset with her actions, but she also knew herself to fret about nothing too often. He could very well just want to talk about something. An upcoming event. The May Day celebration, perhaps, or another surprise. It seemed that this place was full of them.

Guy stood and bent slightly towards Mariella in attempts at an obligated farewell. She barely had time to nod before he walked out. The only improvement she could see in his exit from the last they met was that it was a much more evened and casual pace. Finally she turned her attention towards the Sheriff, who was pursing his lips, looking down his nose at the table. He was agitated, obviously, but even worse was the fact that he was thinking. That was never a good combination in anyone, especially when it followed any form of the phrase "We need to talk" and in this case the blend forewarned fatality.

"_What was that?"_ Vasey asked in Italian. Clearly he would want no one to overhear.

"_What was… what?"_ Mariella responded, not sure what was on his mind.

"_You deliberately defied me,"_ he smirked mockingly, "_You not only spoke Italian but you also brought up our past. 'You missed a lot over the years...' That was completely inappropriate for the company."_

"_You never told me to not talk about our past,"_ Mariella pointed out, her temper rising just as quickly as his, _"How was I to know you would disapprove?"_

"_He is my inferior! My servant! Do you think I want him knowing anything about the personal life I used to have?"_

"_I don't see what's wrong with him knowing-"_

"_It was my personal life!"_ he growled, _"It's personal! Thus the name 'personal life'. Our past doesn't solely belong to you to share."_

Mariella didn't say anything after that. She simply waited so that she would not be pushed over the edge of civility. She would not allow herself to stoop to his level nor let herself carry the blame for what she did for in her mind it was not wrong. _"I'm sorry, Uncle Vasey…" _she said at last, _"I hadn't considered… I hadn't thought. I had assumed that you wouldn't care. Now that I know you do I will assure you that it won't happen again."_

"_Good."_ His nod had a sense of authority in it. _"See that it doesn't. And no more Italian while in the company of others. The least you can do speak the language everyone else does."_ Without another word he rose from his seat and stormed out. It was only now that he was gone that the anger began to subside and the pain of her disobedience began to increase. She had wronged the Sheriff, her guardian, her faux father. Why did she do that? Why did she always have to get on his bad side? Why couldn't she do something to impress him besides being pretty? It seemed in his eyes that her face was the only characteristic of value in her possession, but she wanted to be so much more for him. He was the only father she had ever known and more than ever she wanted his love. She would simply have to try harder. She would have to hide herself once again behind a mask of what he wanted to see. Mariella felt herself break at this. When she had first come here she had thought she would be done with disguises, but she had found herself only creating more and more and as her collection grew, the worse she lost herself. Everything had changed, true, but it had only brought on her miseries in a new form so that it was changed yet unchanged. However, if that was what it would take to make him happy, then she would don whatever face no matter what toll it took. Mariella was prepared to live a miserable life behind a smiling mask, acting out her part as if she were in a play for the damned that would never end. She had known no other role for years now, so who better to perform it? No one. It was her burden to wear.


	15. The Safest Bridge

**Chapter Fifteen: The Safest Bridge**

Guy waited in the corridor for the Sheriff to exit the Great Hall, the world hazy and still around him. An Italian outburst sounded inside and it made him wonder what Mariella did to deserve it or if she deserved it at all. He was half tempted to poke his head inside to investigate, but he fought the urge. He didn't understand a word of Italian and watching them speak the language wouldn't have helped. Then suddenly a muted silence fell all around him. It was unnatural on the ear and set the mind ill at ease. Gisborne tried his best to listen for something to break the silence, but he heard nothing. He closed his eyes in a more desperate attempt. Nothing. Not the sound of outdoors, not the tread of a servant's step, not a sound of life within the cold, stone walls. When he failed to notice any sound around him, he refocused past the door. He could hear the murmurings of her voice and suddenly the sound of life that he had been searching for sprang up in his ears, announcing its presence with a loud, steady thumping as if to say, 'I am here and so is she.'

"Lord Gisborne?" a new voice, a real voice, interrupted, violently snatching him out of his daze.

Gisborne's eyes popped open to see the guest of the castle named Sir Mark standing where there had been no one only moments ago. "Yes?" he asked, "What is it?"

"I was wondering if you had seen Lady Mariella," Mark inquired, "I have something to ask her."

"She's inside," Gisborne answered as he cast his steely blue eyes to the door, "She should be out shortly."

"What's going on in there?" Mark asked, craning his neck as if he was trying to see through the crack in the double doors.

"The Sheriff and she are having a… 'heart to heart' I suppose."

Suddenly the door opened and out stepped the Sheriff shortly followed by his ward.

Upon seeing the two men waiting on the other side, Mariella's eyes lit up. A fire flared inside of Gisborne when he suspected that the light in her eyes wasn't meant for him.

"Sir Mark!" Mariella smiled, "Hello! How are you?"

"Much better now for having found you," Mark replied.

Mariella smiled at Mark in a way that concerned Guy. "Well, why were you looking?" she responded, "Is there something I can help you with?"

"Your lessons, my lady. It's about time that you had another one," he told her. His eyes never before had so much resembled a blue sky as he turned them on the other men. "I assume that you gentlemen have work to do, so would it be alright if I stole this lovely young lady away?"

"Yes, yes, by all means," Vasey permitted with a wave of his hand, "Go."

The smile inspired by Mark lingered on Mariella's lips as she turned towards the Sheriff. "Thank you, my lord," she said with a small curtsey.

Mark offered his arm to her. She took it. Sir Guy watched them walk away. His fist tightened and his jaw set, but he made himself turn and follow after the Sheriff, responding to his call. It was now, the moment Mariella left him to go off with another man, that all moments, all revelations that Guy had ever had concerning her began to stir within him.

He suddenly recalled his first memory of her. It was the memory of her was he most rued… and the one that he would be forever thankful for. It was the moment he had first seen her. It was the moment when he came to know how startlingly beautiful she was. Mariella was an amazing creature not simply because she had the right features, but because she presented them in such a natural and fluent manner. Perhaps that was why Guy found her to be so appealing; she was perhaps the only pure thing left in this world for him. Her purity even emanated through her way of speaking as she spoke her mind, which was clearly void of ill thoughts and evil intentions. From the day that she had run away from her guard, Guy could tell that it was impossible for corruption, nay society, to have affected her. He felt that he could trust her because of that day. To find anyone that he could trust was so difficult in these times that he almost found it an irresistible necessity to put faith in her. That day was perhaps the most significant of memories for it was the day that the rain had fallen to wash away any pretense she put forward. It rid Mariella's disguise of ignorance of the English language and it cast away the veil that was clouding her vision of him for he was now self-assured that her feelings towards him had changed. She was at least more comfortable being in the same room as him if nothing more. Most importantly though it rid him of the idea that he could stay away from her. Those eyes had been rightly concealed from him for so long for they reflected exactly what Mariella felt. In such green eyes, the emotion was so unadulterated that Guy was sure that she was pure enough to be heaven sent. Those calming green eyes hid nothing from him and shared their owner's innermost thoughts, but Mariella guarded herself so warily in the matters of romance that he could still feel as if he could be forever deprived of what he wanted. He wanted her. The only question left was: Did she want him?

* * *

"Mariella," Mark sighed. All the carefree light suddenly vanished from his expression. "Something horrible has happened."

The young lady's heart came to a sudden stop. "What's wrong?"

"We need your help to get her back."

"Get who back?" Mariella asked, even though she knew it could only be one person. There were so few people here that she cared about, after all. "What's happened, Mark?"

"They arrested Laura last night."

"What?" she nearly screamed in anger, "Why? There has to be a mistake! I'll just talk to the Sheriff-"

"There's no mistake," he interrupted, "She was caught stealing."

"Laura? Stealing?" Together the words could make no sense to her.

Mark nodded and went on. "That's why we need you more than ever. We will need your help to get her out."

"We?"

"We who wait for a flame in your window."

Confusion replaced anger. "A flame in my…?" Then she suddenly understood. "You're with-"

"Yes. I am. Laura is too. That's why she was stealing. To help the poor. We need your help. You need to light the candle so we can have a definite decision from you. Can you do that?"

"I… Do I have a choice?" She felt obligation piling on top of her shoulders. "She's my friend."

"Thank you, Mariella. I have to go now."

Mariella only nodded in understanding before he turned and left her alone.

What was she going to do? Of course, she knew what she was going to say to Robin Hood when he would come creeping through her window that night, signaled by her candle, but was it what she wanted? Everywhere she went decisions were being made for her. Everyone but her was deciding how she would spend her days. Could she take much more of it? Well, she would have to because she knew that the moment that she lit that candle she would completely lose control of her fate. What of Uncle Vasey? Would she not only betray herself tonight, but him as well? In her heart she knew that the salvation of a human life would come at a high cost and well worth it morally, but in a way she was still very reluctant to do it. Her loyalties were precious and therefore carefully placed. Yet here she stood, allowing her allegiance to be forcefully taken and distributed this way and that. She couldn't believe what she was being dragged into, to what she resorting.

It was Robin Hood who was making her do this. Robin Hood and Mark. No ties to Robin Hood had yet been made, but Mark's bridge was most certainly unsteady now. Laura's was in peril. The Sheriff's was stronger for its age. These were her few options to travel, so of course she would always choose the safest, her guardian's. It had not let her down thus far, even if she was beginning to suspect its capabilities of deceit. But until that possibly imaginary evil came out she would trust the connection. It would be her guiding path. Faith would give her courage to follow its signs and instructions while love and familiarity would keep her a happy traveler. This was all she could do for it was all she knew. If she crossed any other bridge she would have no assurance of reaching the other side unscathed and she would have none of that. It was preferable for Mariella to walk across an old bridge that had changed, led by nothing but faith, than to tread unexplored ground with a blindfold on. Mariella knew that both had dangers but when it came down to it, she chose the more intimate of the two evils.


	16. Losing Control

**Chapter Sixteen: Losing Control**

The flame flickered back and forth, back and forth as it sat in the window. Even though already lit, it was still unsure of its destiny, unsure if it was really the right thing to be giving off its light. Mariella had tried watching it for the first few minutes, but had soon after grown weary of it and now sat alone on her bed, hugging her legs to herself as she waited with eyes snapped closed, nervously rocking back and forth, back and forth until finally she heard the soft plop of boots land inside of her room. Her head popped up, her back straightened, and her eyes opened to see the tall form of Robin Hood standing only yards away, silhouetted by the candle behind him. His mouth could be seen moving as he spoke, "I see you've made a decision…"

Mariella could only manage a solemn nod.

"What is it?"

With a deep breath she was ready. "Don't you already know?" she told him, "I can't simply stand by while my friend is in trouble."

A sigh sounded off in the darkness and his stance relaxed. He moved over to the side of bed and sat down. "Are you sure about this?" he asked.

"Laura is in jail," Mariella stated, "Of that I am sure. What else is there to consider?"

Robin nodded in understanding, but still sensed her unstable loyalty. He saw that Laura was the only thing that was keeping the scales tipped in his favor, which was a very risky factor to rely on, but he needed her. Mark had told him of her influence over their rivals and it could come in use. However, it would be imperative that she not let that influence slip, especially when it came the Sheriff. Gisborne was still young and could be easily seduced, but the Sheriff would be exponentially more difficult to reach. Mariella was their only chance. "I can't tell you how grateful we are," he told her, "You're doing a great thing by helping us… but I need to know… How far are you willing to go?"

The request caught her off guard. Even though she was coming into this so willingly, Mariella had never taken into consideration the things that would be requested of her, but she already had her answer. "I won't hurt anyone."

"That shouldn't be a problem," he confirmed, "So, Mark will give you instructions tomorrow. You have to follow them if you want to save Laura and I promise you that no harm will come to anyone."

There was a soft knock at the door. "Lady Mariella!" Guy called in something more than a murmur, "Are you awake?"

"This is where I take my leave," Robin whispered, bowed, and left the same way he had entered, gone just as abruptly as he had come.

Left alone, Mariella still sat on her bed in a type of daze that stopped time, but only for a few moments because the knocking at her door—harsher this time—persisted. "Mariella?" Guy called. Mariella was spurred into action. She threw on a night robe and went to answer the door, cracking it open ever so slightly and trying to hide herself behind it regardless of the precautionary garment she had already adorned.

"Yes?" she asked, "Is something wrong?"

As always, Guy was awestruck upon seeing Mariella and it took him an instant to gather his wits. "An… unidentified person has been spotted roaming the castle." He was finally able to calm down and regain his composure. "He was spotted in this general area. Have you seen or heard anything?"

"Nothing, my lord," Mariella answered as she adjusted her grip on the neck of her outerwear, "Should I be worried? Could he be dangerous?"

"No," Guy denied with a shake of his head, "You have nothing to fear. I'll find him."

"It's a comfort to know that you're on the job, Sir Guy." Mariella gave a weak smile. Of course she already knew there was no threat and Robin would be out of the castle walls soon, but it was nice to know Gisborne was confident in his position. It would help her sleep at night knowing that he was around from time to time. "If you would excuse me, I am very tired, Sir Guy, and I'm sure you would like to go hunt down the intruder just as much as I would like to go to sleep now. Good night." She began to close to door, but she stopped at his urging. She opened it again.

"My lady… Are you aware that tomorrow is May Day?" he asked, his voice low and so direct that her heart responded to it immediately.

"Yes… I am aware." Her eyes darted for only a moment and then she allowed them to wander his face, never focused on anything for more than a second. Curiosity began to build up in her chest and her ears tingled for satisfaction. "What of it?" He wasn't going to…? Was he?

He went on. "Has anyone asked to accompany you?"

A head shake was the first answer he received. The second was a quick and nervous, "No. Why?"

"Then you will be going with the Sheriff and I," he told her, "Would you like that?"

Her pulse began to die down now. A warm breeze relief surrounded her, calming her nerves and allowing her to take a deep breath. It was like salvation because the invitation included one more party member than she had anticipated; the Sheriff. She had been so scared that Guy would request to be with her alone the next day… not that it would have been bad. Mariella actually enjoyed Sir Guy's company from time to time, now more than ever now that they had overcome a few rough obstacles. Her fear had simply been rooted in tentativeness wherein the uncertainty was too risky than she liked. If he had asked her, Mariella had feared what she would say and what would result because of it. However, that wasn't a problem for she would be going to the May Day celebration with not only him but the Sheriff too. All was well and fretting was no longer necessary. "Yes," she told him, "I suppose that would be fine…" She paused, thinking about how she and her godfather had been getting along as of late. Recalling it, she bit her lip. "Is he still upset with me?"

Guy furrowed his eyebrows at the question, not entirely sure how to reply. "No," he told her, "He… He's just accustomed to giving orders and having people obey. He doesn't like… defiance, my lady." He was hesitant to apply such a word to Mariella. "Just behave from now on and he'll calm down. He doesn't ask much of you, after all. Simply that you behave and speak English."

She scoffed at this. Behave and speak English. Behave like someone she isn't and speak a language that is not her own. The sound of it was beginning to grow stale and ugly and under her breath, barely audible to even Sir Guy, she said, "Yes, but all he asks of me is all I have left." The words echoed in her ears. She said it again, this time softer now having realized them to be truth, "All… I have left…" She longed for the sound of her own tongue, to hear her mother use it as she called her in for supper or her sister make jokes about the sour old woman across the way. She longed for her memories and Italian was all she had left of them. Would the Sheriff annihilate every bit of Italy she had left in her blood? Homesickness was no longer a problem. They'd worked that out of her long ago. They'd taught her their language which only made her more like them. Now Vasey was pounding English morality and values into her. Her eyes closed as she tried to erase the thought from her mind and her head hung low with the shame of her words. "I'm sorry…" she whispered, "I shouldn't have said that. You're right. He asks so little of me and I have been nothing but ungrateful. I have failed him as a daughter."

Guy felt a pang in his chest to see her in such a state. He sighed. "You haven't failed him as a daughter, my lady," he said, "You are trying your best in the only way you know how. I'm sure you'll both grow accustomed to each other in time."

"That is just it, Sir Guy," she said, "We should already be accustomed to each other… but he's changed. That is not the man who raised me. Even so I will vie for his attention. He is still my godfather and though I no longer find it attainable, I will still strive for his approval for that is my duty as his daughter and I know perfectly well the influence he has over my life. The better I honor and obey him, the longer I can delay him surrendering my body and soul to the man who pays the highest price for my hand." The latter part of her statement was spoken bitterly. It spread from inside of her throat, into her chest, all the way to her fingers so that they closed into a fist on the door, nails scratching as they went. "That is what he intends, is it not?" This time she caught herself and thrust the ill-bearing ideas out of her mind. Her eyes relaxed with shame once more as did the rest of her body. This time she gave no apology. She couldn't bring herself to say anything at all. She brought her forehead to rest on the wood of the door as if to hide her utter misery behind it. Here she stayed quite comfortably, almost forgetting Guy's presence entirely. There was no hope for her now. Live as they wanted her to and she would be damning herself to her own despair. Live as she wanted to and they would get rid of her by damning her to a fate equally as horrible or worse: marriage. Guy's presence suddenly came to mind. She opened her eyes and retreated even further behind the door. "Excuse me," she said, "I… I am very sorry. I am very tired. I must go to sleep now."

"Then I won't keep you any longer," he replied with much hesitance, eyes downcast so as to respectfully avoid acknowledging this time of vulnerability, "Good night, my lady." Without waiting for a response, Gisborne quickly turned away and hastened down the hall, leaving Mariella still dazed but now adding confusion to the equation.

Sir Guy of Gisborne was acting strangely as of late and it immensely concerned Mariella. At first she would have assumed the obvious situation when a man acts strangely around a woman, but now that time had given her a better opportunity to analyze the situation she was completely puzzled. She could tell that he wasn't shy when it came to women for there were only chosen times when he acted so around her. Did the problem possibly lie within her? Perhaps it was simply his secret to uphold. Whatever the issue was it disturbed Mariella. It kept her mind ill at ease as she lay back down to rest. The only possible diagnosis that she could fathom was infatuation, but there were symptoms of that could not match up! Perhaps she was being vain, assuming that the first conclusion she had come to was affection. It was quite possible that he felt nothing for her at all. In fact, this seemed the most likely of answers. The reason that it did not seem like shy admiration was because it was not. After all, Mariella's entire foundation for this theory was based off of the day she ran away. Her own spur-of-the-moment feelings had made her a biased judge as to what he had been feeling which could have very well been nothing. Now that her own feelings had come and gone, Mariella wasn't even sure of what she felt for _him_ anymore. It was true that she now felt a fluttering in her chest whenever she recalled those moments, but that was to be expected for in truth she knew that a memory could not be thought of without recalling what she was feeling at the time.

Just like when she thought about her past with Vasey. Although she did not feel the same about him now, in the past she could remember loving him as the father she never had. But now that these moments had passed did she still feel the same? Did her heart weaken when she saw him now or her breath become shallow? No… Then again she had only seen him fleetingly before and with the Sheriff to distract her. And just now… Just a moment ago she had experienced the uncontrollable impulse to confide in him which she had never done with any other before. It was as if his voice, face, and entire manner of being simply led her to a place where she felt safe and free from judgment, even though she wasn't sure it was a reliable feeling. But Gisborne seemed to be the only person in the entirety of England that didn't ask anything of her. Sometimes he even made her feel as if she had some control over her life. Still she simply could not decipher what any of these thoughts made her feel nor the glances his sea-grey eyes so often stole nor the curious way that he would occasionally demonstrate a withdrawn attitude. Her confusion made her mind restless but it was thinking about these occurrences that lulled her into a much needed and very sweet sleep.


	17. May Day

**Author's Note:** I could always use more reviews, people! In case I haven't told you, I love them! Good or bad!

**Chapter Seventeen: May Day**

It was a light knocking on her bedroom door that awoke Mariella that next morning. Normally a disturbed slumber would have left her weary and tense, but today was different in the sense that she miraculously needed only to stretch the stiffness out in order to feel as if she was already on her way to feeling great. Quickly she threw back her covers and sprang out of bed to where her robe hung on a hook, slipping it on over her night gown. The knocking became more insistent and a woman's voice called, "My lady? Are you up?"

Once she realized that it was a woman calling, she rushed to the door without taking any further preparations. She quickly went to answer the door and saw that the woman was an unfamiliar servant. "Yes?" Mariella asked, "What is it?"

"A gift, my lady," the woman answered, holding the mentioned item out to Mariella as she dipped her head respectively, "From a secret admirer."

"Thank you," Mariella told the young woman as she gingerly accepted the offering. The girl curtsied and left.

The flowers were a strange variety and the selection was quite perplexing. However, the bouquet's arrangement of bluebells, buttercups, daisies, and dandelions possessed a quaint charm that made her smile with appreciation of the simplicity. In all her life, Mariella had only received one other collection of flowers. They had been so expertly chosen and arranged they looked so manipulated and unnatural. Although she could appreciate the skill put into the assembly, it was not in her taste of beauty. These flowers were different though. It was such a wild combination of violet blue, glossy gold, and yellow and white that she couldn't stop grinning if she had wanted to. Bluebells, buttercups, daisies, and dandelions. It was such a very random combination in every way from their shapes, to their colors, to their meanings of humility, childishness, loyal love, and happiness. It was a beautiful gift indeed. But she had no more time to linger on it. She had to get ready for the celebrations.

* * *

For hundreds of years men have been fighting wars. They murder and plunder for land, riches, and glory at a moment's notice. They accept quests that are more wild than imagination could ever conjure and that produce riches more coveted than the Goblet of Jesus Christ himself. However, on May first and for the following month thereafter there was the aroma of sweet love in the brisk spring air, so they were possessed to lay down their swords and shields, quit their questing, and instead chase after their heart's desire. And while the wars of men stopped on this magical day, ironically it was the cause of the even more fierce and brutal battle between women for the sake of love. It was the unwritten law of the first of May was that every gentlewoman, already supposedly beautiful, on this day had to strive for divinity in order to compete with her fellow women in the competition for the attention of the opposite sex. They would select their best baubles that would bring attention to bare collar bones and graceful hands but not distract from their teasing eyes or taunting smiles. Any lady, whether silly or reserved, took this holiday as an opportunity to become the paragon of attraction. They would leave no detail unnoticed. It was an occasion special enough that the ladies felt no waste in applying sweet and rare scents to their skin to more thoroughly entice the general populous of young, unmarried men. They no longer restrained their hair by putting pins and combs, but took after their ancestors by letting their hair flow. Sometimes these women would even go out early to pick flowers to intertwine into their hair for decoration. They adorned these trinkets and flora like beautiful battle armor. Yes, the upcoming month would be a war zone of love and desire for all.

All, that is, except for Mariella who was thankful that she would not need to bother with such trivialities this year. Since she was so new to the court, there would be no persistent suitor chasing her around this year no matter how many times she denied him. But regardless of the lack of frivolity she would experience, Mariella did allow herself to put her hair down like the other girls, letting it fall in silky waves of chestnut. That way she wouldn't stick out from the rest of the girls, but blend in like any other girl in the crowd that she moved through.

"My lord!" Mariella called as she started making her way through the sea of bodies, thrilled to see that the first familiar face she saw was Vasey's, "My lord… I am so happy that I found you."

"La, dee dah," he snapped with impatience at having to wait for so long to leave, "Don't pretend as if you don't hate the idea of this wretched celebration as much as I do."

"My lord?"

"Where is Gisborne?" Vasey wondered aloud, "He had better show up soon or we might leave without him. He's been so damn unbearable lately I think a little philandering will do him good."

"Excuse me, my lord?" Mariella asked, genuinely confused as to that one word, "What is that word? Philandering?"

"Umm… Merry making," Vasey lied just as Guy of Gisborne, sitting atop his black horse and dressed likewise, caught Mariella's attention. How strange she thought it of him to wear such a dark and dismal tone on such a very vibrant day! He dismounted and began his approach, leading his horse towards them. It was difficult not to smile, however, for though she believed the color to be inappropriate for the occasion, still she thought him to be very handsome in black, especially when his face was rid of that awed expression that Mariella had come to dislike. He seemed very serious today—almost grim—which pleased Mariella immensely. It would mean that his attentions would not be focused on her... hopefully.

"About bloody time!" Vasey exclaimed with impatience, "What took you so long? Couldn't decide how to do your hair or what shade of black really makes your eyes pop?"

Although Mariella smiled and took the joke better than Gisborne, both of the young people for the most part ignored the comment. "Good morning, Sir Guy," she greeted, "Are you ready for today's festivities?"

"As ready as I'll ever be," he sighed with a look of exasperation, "but to be honest, my lady, I strongly disagree with what the holiday represents. Gallivanting around occurs often enough throughout the year without having an entire month dedicated to it. I see it as juvenile and pointless."

"Juvenile and pointless?" Mariella chuckled, "Everyone works very hard all year round and here is a day where everyone can simply enjoy themselves, where nothing such as weather, or crops, or money is any concern of theirs. It is only harmless fun, Sir Guy. A time when gallivanting can be a priority. A way to relieve stress and lighten spirits."

"Yes, Gisborne," Vasey agreed with a forewarning of sarcasm in his tone, "Today marks the day when you may begin skipping and dancing and prancing about. Lord knows you're in need of a little... stress relief."

The Sheriff's reference made maidenly color rush into Mariella's cheeks. This hidden context she understood perfectly. Instantly she turned away to hide her embarrassment from Sir Guy and so hope to hopelessly hide the fact that she had heard such words spoken of him at all.

"My lord," she whispered, "I… think we should go now."

"Yes. The carriage is waiting just outside the gateway," Vasey nodded, "Will you be joining us, Gisborne?"

"No," he denied, "I will ride as part of the guard. I'm here strictly as a servant today."

"Oh, no fun!" Vasey teased, "Very well, then… Shall we go to the fair, my dear?"

"Yes, please," Mariella grinned as she accepted her guardian's offered arm.

* * *

The festivities were already under way by the time that the trio and their guard arrived. Mariella looked out onto the masses to see smiles everywhere, all blurring into one large scenery of joy. The glee was contagious and made Mariella grin as well, feeling the universal warmth that only May Day could provide. "Well, let's get this over with," Vasey sighed as he offered his arm to Mariella. She took it gladly, content that he was back to his grumpy self instead of being seriously upset with her. "Come, Gisborne!" the old man called after the younger one, "Let's get to our spots so that the games may begin."

"Spots?" Mariella asked, "Games?"

Vasey let out a weary sigh. "Being the Sheriff of Nottingham and the host of this festival, I am obliged to judge and oversee the competitions such as jousting, wrestling, archery, what have you. It can tend to be amusing but after a while it just gets repetitive. The only sport I really like is jousting. Now there's a laugh! Two men racing towards each other, getting closer and closer until CRASH! Lances break on contact and someone falls on their hind! No, no, no… I wouldn't miss THAT for the world."

"Look, Uncle Vasey!" Mariella smiled as she seemed the perfectly behaved lady now, "Dancing!" This was when Vasey finally realized the formula. As long as she was happy, she was tame. If she was unhappy she would throw a fit as if she were a spoiled child. Keeping a woman happy would be much easier than breaking her down. He smiled to himself at this new-found power. Things just got a lot easier.

"Yes," Guy mused innocently, "Maybe you will find someone to dance with later."

Suddenly the idea of dancing didn't seem so charming to Mariella. She enjoyed the act simply enough, but having to share the experience with someone not yet of her acquaintance was somewhat intimidating. Now she wasn't looking forward to it as much and could only hope that if a stranger were to request a dance of her, he would be friendly. She enjoyed a jubilant soul. A mischievous one could not be trusted, but a solemn one would not entertain. While one who was lewd and disrespectful would disgust her, a lovesick puppy would drive her away all the faster. Having these thoughts, Mariella couldn't help but to peek over at Guy. She knew not what sort of man he was yet. It was still very unclear to her. The possibilities of his character were endless. From what she had seen of him her opinion of him was jumbled. At times he could seem so distant, but the next day he would try his best to converse and an hour later wish to be silent. He would go out of his way to seek her out, but then pretend as if she wasn't there when they were drawn together.

This decidedly made Mariella curious. Men had always been so transparent to her. She had known that Mark, for example, was an amiable man from the first day she had met him. Vasey—though she loved him very much—was a bit of tyrant. Guy was a mystery, however. She couldn't go one way or the other with him. In her heart Mariella knew that she would decipher his character eventually, it would just take a little more time.


	18. Eyes

**Chapter Eighteen: Eyes**

The jousting was very much like Vasey had described it. Two men would run at each other with lances of weak wood, clashing together in a great explosion of splinters and then one man would come out victorious and the less fortunate of the two would fall in defeat. It was a rhythmic pattern. The charging of the horses, clah-clop, clah- clop, clah clop, the bashing of wood against shield, crash!, and the appraising cheers of the crowd for the victor, whom they would love until his first loss. It deeply interested Mariella for the first half hour or so, but once she was accustomed to the crashing and falling and cheering, she began to lose sight of the fun of these games. Soon she grew impatient. The sounds eventually became maddening: cah-clop, cah-clop, cah-clop, crash!, and so the crowd would yell. She couldn't take it anymore. "Vasey," she begged in a hushed voice as she leaned over towards him, "May I please be excused?"

"In a minute," Vasey hushed, more preoccupied with the sport than his ward, "I just want to see a few more and then we can go for a stroll."

It was another long and irksome ten minutes before Mariella forced herself to ask yet again. "Please, sir?"

"Gisborne!" Vasey growled, "You take her. I don't want this whining in my ear."

Though insulted by the comment Mariella was able to find a little amount of comfort in it being that she was now excused. She rose with Sir Guy and they made their exit, Mariella leading the way leaving Guy to hurry after her.

Away from the field and with patience restored Mariella stopped and waited beyond the throng for Guy. "Where shall we go?" she asked him once he had caught up.

"That is entirely up to you, my lady," Guy responded, "What would you like to do?"

Mariella turned her gaze to the festival around her, taking in all the different options and weighing them in her mind. All ribbons of the maypole were already taken up. Games she never had a taste for. So many options yet so few to choose from.

"Why don't we stroll about until you see an appealing activity?" Guy suggested in a tone that was soft and sweet on Mariella's ear.

Mariella contemplated this, running through her options once more to see if she had changed her mind. Having had no evolution in preference she agreed with him.

At this answer Guy offered his arm to her, staring as he waited for his invitation to be accepted. Hesitantly Mariella placed her arm in his, securing it better than she ever had in the past. Being near him wasn't so bad now that she was doing it properly. Mariella marveled at the fact that she no longer felt the need to shrink away from him. It felt different to have her arm in his. She even dared to take her free hand and rest it gingerly on his bicep, feeling the bulge of muscle that Mariella had never paid attention to before now. Once the surprise had passed, Mariella knew that she shouldn't have been the least bit shocked. His strong stature had not gone unnoticed by her, but it hadn't been until now that she had given it second thoughts. Everything about him seemed strong. His stern, blue eyes for example. Usually Mariella knew someone's eyes as the window into their soul, but not Guy's. They were impenetrable and all-penetrating. Those eyes didn't let anything in or out, that is, they didn't when they were darting about as they tended to do when he wasn't speaking. What was going on behind those eyes?

"We haven't really talked since the other day," Guy pointed out, "How have you been?"

"Well," she answered, "And you?"

"I... don't know," he answered as his eyebrows knit together.

"You don't know?" She had to dodge this adeptly. "Well… Could you point me in the direction of someone who does know so that I could ask them?"

Guy actually chuckled at this; the first time Mariella had ever seen him smile.

"Ah! So you don't have fangs!" she teased, pointing out the fact that he was grinning.

"Excuse me?" a trace of the laughter remaining in his eyes.

"You never smiled before. I was beginning to think that the only explanation could be that you were truly a bad guy and incapable of human emotion."

"Why would you think I was bad?" Guy questioned, suddenly becoming serious again.

"I guess that it's the fact that you always seem so solemn and grim," she sighed, "You couldn't imagine how surprised I was when you invited me to go out riding the other day."

"Then I wonder how surprised you'll be when I ask you to dance," Guy wondered aloud, peeking over at her from the corner of his eye with the hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

Mariella felt her heart skip a beat just then. Dance? Her eyes wandered over to the group that was dancing only yards away, then back to Guy. She couldn't even begin to imagine what it would be like dancing with Sir Guy of Gisborne. "Who knows?" she softly replied in a voice she couldn't raise above a weak breath, "Ask and we'll find out."

Guy briefly cleared his throat in preparation. "May I have this dance, my lady?" he offered.

Still, an answer came slowly to Mariella. Actually, she knew what answer she had to give she just wasn't sure how readily she would be able to give it. "Yes, you may," she finally told him.

Guy unlinked his arm to offer his hand, which she took, letting him lead her over to the other dancers and taking only moments to fall into step.

Once again she found herself smiling in his presence, finding a strange joy in dancing. He was actually quite light on his feet, smiling with her as they stepped in perfect sync with each other. Her smile widened, her heart soared, her laughter rang out from time to time. She enjoyed the way he spun her about, the way she moved with him, the way he moved her. It was even possible that she liked the way he held her, the way that he touched her, the way he looked at her with such icy eyes that fixed on her so... so… intently now. Mariella looked up to Guy and saw that he was not smiling anymore, but instead like he was quite troubled. Suddenly she stopped in her place as the others continued on around her. She knew that look. It was not one of outer influences, but an inner turmoil that had been going on since the first day that man had been smitten by woman. It was in his eyes as they stared at her, the ocean currents in them swirling in a mystified daze, enticing Mariella to stare back.

"What's wrong?" Guy asked, a little puzzled over his partner's behavior.

Suddenly everything came to a sudden halt. "I don't want to dance anymore," she stated as panic crashed over her, the joy she had felt only moments ago replaced by fear. She began to leave, not looking back to see whether Guy was following closely behind or not. Of course he was, only allowing her a few steps of a lead.

"What's wrong?" Guy asked again, "Did I do something wrong?"

"No," she responded automatically, a little too quickly for her to be sure of her answer, "No, it wasn't you."

"Then what was it?" he asked, rounding in front of her and stopping her by securing his grasp on her arms and craning down to look her in the eye, presently the last place she could bear to be examined by him, "Please, tell me."

"No!" she cried as she uselessly struggled against him, "Please stop." She couldn't look into his eyes. It would kill her if she looked and saw emotions that she so feared would spread to her, just as she had seen it do so often before.

"My lady! Please!"

"Your eyes!" she cried, avoiding his gaze and trying to wrench herself from his touch. Then, in a significantly quieter tone she continued, "It's your eyes. It's… the way you stare sometimes."

"My eyes?" he repeated, taking a step back, "I stare at you?" His focus was unfixed as he tried to search his memory for such an act. After only moments he was able to decide that what she said had to be true, for the reasons behind it were as plain to him as they were to her. "I'm sorry… I wasn't aware that I was doing anything of the sort. I assure you that it's not intentional."

Mariella sighed. "It's fine," she told him, crossing her arms uncomfortably and tried to calm herself, "Just please stop." She looked up at him with pleading eyes, but Guy saw that they held not anger or desperation when they pled, but fear. Of what he had a vague idea.

Suddenly a scream sounded in the distance, causing all heads to snap to its source. Mariella couldn't see anything, but she still knew that it was appropriate to be scared, looking back at Guy in time to see the worry in his eyes as he announced the threat: "Outlaws."


	19. Carried Away

**Chapter Nineteen: Carried Away**

"Outlaws?" Mariella repeated, looking at Guy with fright, "What?"

"Come with me," Guy instructed as he took hold of her hand and led her through the fleeing mass of people towards where most of the horses were tethered. It all happened so fast. People screaming, men shouting, horses whinnying as their masters spurred them into action. "Get on," he instructed as he lifted her up so that she was set into the saddle of his dark steed, "Don't stop until you've reached safety." At this he took the horse's reins and forced them into her limp and unsure hands. Mariella looked from Guy to her hands and back again. Guy squeezed her hands reassuringly as he made eye contact with her, making sure that he had her calm and focused. "Can you do that, Mariella?"

"What?" Mariella asked, so scared and confused she could barely keep her attention on him alone.

"Promise me that you won't stop until you've reach safety," he told her, stepping away and drawing his sword from its sheath. It was obvious in his steadfast eyes that he was staying, which worried her. He could get away too.

"Wait," she said, "What about you?"

"Go!" he told her, no longer instructing but ordering her, annulling her choice in the matter as he gave Judas a good slap on the hide, sending the beast into a hard and frenzied gallop out of the clearing.

It all happened so quickly that if Mariella had wanted to recall whatever had just happened only moments earlier she wouldn't have been able to. The only thing that she seemed to know from the moment that the horse had fled with her on his back was the terrifying sense of flight, the world racing past her in a violent rush and her being utterly powerless to stop it. To Mariella the forest did not go by in the nearly straight line that the path took them. Instead it quaked around her, wrenching her out of her body so that she was only a vulnerable life that could fall to harm just as easily as it could ride to safety. This Mariella was mortally aware of. It was only when the adrenaline that her thumping heart sent coursing through her veins became a norm that she was finally able to regain just enough sense to try and control Judas, quickly finding that she was far too weak to influence such an indomitable force. He was far too powerful in his haste for her to overcome it.

Mariella tried to draw back on the horse, but it seemed like no matter how hard she pulled she just couldn't do it hard enough. He wouldn't obey such a puny commander when he had his own intentions to attend to. There was no stopping this animal! She could have yanked the reins until Judas's lips tore and dripped red and he would have still raced forward. She was totally at Judas's mercy and knowing that scared her tremendously, the fear of helplessness dominating her utterly, pushing panic into her thoughts and paralyzing her sense of control. With her heart pounding in her ears Mariella could rapidly feel herself tire from the terror as she was simultaneously being thrashed about every which way in the saddle. She wasn't even sure where she was anymore having had left the marked path behind long ago and the blur of the passing trees having become too indistinct much before that.

Mariella had actually begun to believe that Judas would never lessen his pace and that her heart would stop before he did. However, Mariella noticed when he finally began to slow, to settle to a point where Mariella could weakly bring him to a much-needed stop. Carefully and cautiously Mariella sat up in the saddle, trying to gather wits efficiently enough to think properly. Her eyes wandered around her surroundings to find it to be just as she had thought she would: unfamiliar with no way of finding her way back. Where was she? The only hope Mariella could find in this place was the knowledge that the path was somewhere behind her and the only thing she could do was to head in its general direction. So, with a bit of excess effort with which she was not accustomed to, she turned the horse around and urged him on into a walk with a creeping mistrust stinging her heart and a strong caution in her observations of his body language. She waited until decent and uneventful time had passed to test his responses to her. She let the left rein touch the side of his neck gently. He did nothing. She forced it harder. Only then did he veer to the right. Mariella went through the same process with his right side and he responded similarly, only this time veering to the left as he was supposed to. Stopping him required the same extent of confident strength that steering him did but at least now he was obeying.

Her mind set at ease by this progression, Mariella now had time to calm herself and recover from the fright that the horse had just put her through. Now she had time to worry about those who had run from the celebrations… and those who had stayed behind. The moment that the outlaws had invaded the clearing, the first and foremost things that Guy had done was put Mariella on his own horse and send her off to safety before him. It had been a noble thing to do, and she acknowledged, appreciated, and admired this, but she was still greatly concerned about his deed of throwing himself in harm's way. A worried crinkle formed on her forehead by the worried knit of her brow. She was worried that Guy would meet misfortune against the invading vagabonds. She was worried he wouldn't walk away unscathed. Mariella knew not how many armed guards there had been standing by at the time, let alone how their numbers compared to the attackers, but she lost no time in fretting about it. Images of battle ran through her mind. She saw festival spectators fleeing, men standing to fight, the men who once stood starting to fall. So many fatal scenarios ran through her mind, but none so as troubling as those of her savior. If anything happened to him it would be all her fault because he had been decent enough to want to save her.

She thought back to the other day, when they had stood together in the pouring rain. She thought of later that night. That night—even though it was only for one night—Mariella had been in grave danger of falling in love with that man. She couldn't help but wonder what had prevented her from falling fully for him. That day Guy had clearly expressed something that had resembled a special interest in her and Mariella had nearly done the same. What Mariella couldn't tell now was if the interest had inspired something far more advanced or if it had simply dwindled away like it had with Mariella, a dying ember that couldn't be put out quickly enough.

It was during this thought that Mariella felt Judas come to a sudden halt, snapping her out of her thoughts so that she could take in what was going on. Judas had found the path again. A twinge of respect for the great horse made its way into Mariella's conscience. Her previous impressions of him as being stubborn and defiant now seemed inaccurate. Perhaps he deserved the trust and respect that she had deprived him of when he had been fleeing in panic only minutes before... or perhaps not. Unfortunately that thought was subtly dimmed as Judas testily began to paw at the earth, quickly returning to a state of unrest. "Woah, boy…" Mariella cooed, fearful that the beast would once again go berserk.

In the end, her words of calming were wasted. Something was stirring this spirit and a few frightened words from a stranger was not about to soothe him. He began stumbling in place like a new foal learning to walk, threatening to throw Mariella right off his back as he tossed her about and made it impossible to balance. Then just as the noble lady thought she was about go tumbling, Judas instantly righted himself having finally found his legs and instantly began using them to their full potential to bolt off down the pathway so that he transformed once more into an unstoppable force that sped through the forest towards whatever was pulling him. This time Mariella bowed her head and refused to look up as she was being raced forward against her will, the frightening emotions welling up inside of her again.

'_Where are you taking me now?_' she wondered as tears began to form in her eyes, her muscles tensing as a precaution towards danger.

Then, as she felt her tears leak down, she realized that she had to face what was happening head on if she hoped to stay saddled. Judas had not failed her yet and somehow Mariella knew that he was not intending to fail her now. _'Open your eyes. You're going to make it. Understand that I'm helping you_,' Judas seemed to tell her, '_Open your eyes._'

And she did. Blinking away the blurs from her eyes she tried to focus. Though she could stand to raise her eyes, Mariella could not lift her body from where it bent over in the saddle in defense nor could she slacken the tense grip that turned her knuckles white. She could bring herself to watch, but she would lower her guard for nothing else.

Mariella didn't know how long Judas had run with her, but she was quickly losing energy and though her heart could now will her to keep her head up, her stamina could not sustain her. She tried to keep looking forward, but the temptation to rest her head was too great. She was so tired that she felt her muscles begin to slacken even though her mind, her emotions, and her very soul told them not to.

Her grip weakened, her posture beginning to lower even further. If it wasn't for Judas's head bobbing up and down she would have rested herself right on his neck. But she didn't settle. She closed her eyes once again this time to rest them. Suddenly she could see everything so much clearer. She could imagine in full detail what was happening outside of the security of her personal darkness. By hearing the panting of the horse's heavy exertion Mariella could imagine the foam that dripped from his mouth. Underneath the thundering of Judas's powerful hooves, clumps of dirt were startled out of the ground. Her hair was blown back, even though she felt no wind touch her. Suddenly, in this darkness, she also realized that she was now too tired to be scared anymore.

Finally, the great and powerful dark horse began to slow to a canter. Mariella lifted her head weakly, keeping bent low. Where had they arrived at that made him lessen his stride? Looking around she saw that he had taken her back to the clearing, the crowds already cleared up and so far Mariella could see no sight of people except the remnants of the festivities. The maypole ribbons had been abandoned and no longer sported enjoyment, decorations had been ruined and were no longer festive, and debris littered the ground turning what would have been a happy occasion into a complete disaster.

Judas approached a group of men whose faces Mariella was not in a mind to discern. Who amongst them was it that drew Judas so? She squinted and she could tell who had drawn them back by his movements and black clothing. It was Guy. Realizing this, his face suddenly came into clearer focus. Everyone else was still just a collection of hazy faces. She tried focusing on his countenance alone and tried to process the words that his lips were forming, but they didn't come to her. The pounding in her head was the only thing she could hear and it blocked everything else out. It was so loud she couldn't hear the voice in her head that whispered good tidings underneath it. Focusing as best she could, she tried to banish the pounding and let her heart be still so that her mind could speak. Gradually the noise was quieted and the message she wanted to hear behind it emerged into understanding: '_Safe_.'

'_Safe_,' Mariella thought with an uplifted comprehension. She could have sworn that she had smiled as she finally willed herself to let go.


	20. The Return of Judas

**Chapter Twenty: The Return of Judas**

Guy wiped the blood from the fresh, stinging split on his lip. Judging by the way they'd turned their tails and scampered off, it appeared to Guy as if the outlaws would not be coming back. The battle had most definitely been won. Most had fled once all innocents had escaped having only been after their purses. Already he had dispatched men to look for the enemy escapists who had fled into the forest. Haughtily he stalked over to where one of his men guarded a group of captives. "What do you have to report?" he demanded of one of the leading officers of the guard, "How many outlaws do we have?"

"We have captured nine outlaws with more being brought back, my lord," the man announced, "Three more of them were killed."

"Only three?" Guy asked with a curl of his lip forming the hint of an amused smirk. It was a three that wouldn't be sent to the scaffold, but at least the fools were out of the way leaving behind nine of their brothers. Three dead men plus nine was better than zero. One of the remainders was bound to rat out his escaped comrades. "Very well. What of _our_ men?"

"Several have been wounded, but none are immediately fatal."

Several wounded… including him. The pain in his side was an irritating reminder, but the outcome could have been worse. A few bandages and a bit of rest and it would soon be as if this were all a proud memory. "Good," he said to move on to different matters, "What has been done to transport the outlaws and the wounded back to Nottingham?"

"Nothing yet, my lord," the guard foolishly admitted with absolutely no fear of Guy's reaction.

Big mistake.

"Then go and take care of it!" the dark knight ordered with an authority in his tone that could have only come well-earned from hard experience with dealing with such incompetence as his guard.

The underling immediately scurried off to escape any other thrashing Guy might have left over in him and he did it rightly so. His lord was very agitated that his people had stopped their work simply because the battle was won. When outlaws attacked, he expected his men to be on top of things before, during, and after their victory. So, it was with disgruntled spirits that Guy left the spot to turn on the outlaws that were tied up only yards away. "Explain yourselves," Guy demanded, wasting no time in getting to the point.

Fearlessly one of the more arrogant rebels leaned as far forward as his bonds allowed him—which wasn't very far at all—in order to take a deep breath, clear his throat, and hock his best improvised loogie at Guy's boots, hitting his target with the expert marksmanship that he did not have with a bow. "Go to Hell!" the young man scowled, thinking himself kicked but not down. He would brawl until the last breath.

Guy looked down at the glob with indifferent examination. It was, in his eyes, a weak and pitiful act. Then his eyes darted back up to glare at the man who had produced it with more disgust and annoyance than he had looked upon his boot. "I'll ask one more time…" he warned just before front kicking the seated and bound man in the shoulder to send him down to the ground.

The outlaw was only shocked by the attack for a moment before he tried to squirm upright once more, having difficulty doing so with hands and feet tied. Guy took this opportunity to slowly and menacingly step over to a spot near the man's head, wiping the mess off of his shoe onto its maker's face. "Why did you attack this place?" Guy asked, his tone much more calm but seeming so much more threatening than before, striking a new chord with the men around him.

The outlaw turned his head and wiped the spit away on the shoulder of his shirt before looking back up at Guy with a fire fed rage in his glare. "You can't figure that out?" he asked with an undeserved supercilious scorn, "Let me spell it out for you so that your little brain can understand then… An excess amount of nobles decked out in their best jewelry with a lack of security… What does that spell to you?"

"It tells me that you are either very desperate or very stupid," Guy replied, "but judging by how quickly your allies were ready to flee, desperation doesn't seem like the better of the two motives."

"Piss off!" the outlaw cried as if determined to make the last words he ever spoke on God's green earth fighting ones.

Guy quickly responded to the statement by grabbing the front of his shirt and pulling him up off the ground so that their two snarls were only a few inches away from each other. "Where are the rest of your men?" he interrogated harshly. This man was trying Guy's patience and it had already been worn down so that there was very little left of it. This outlaw might not have realized it but just by speaking he was quickening his death sentence.

"Do you really think that I would tell you, you son of a bitch?"

Quickly Guy brought his hand across the insolent man's face, sending him crashing to the ground yet again. Guy stood up from the ground in order to drive the heel of his boot into the cheek of the groaning man. "Buffoon! If you think-" he started off, only to have his words distracted by the unexpected sound of heavily approaching hoof beats.

Slowly he turned to investigate the newcomer only to find it was his own horse galloping towards him with its charge sitting unsteadily in the saddle. He wasn't sure what that made him feel at that moment. Surprise was the first to replace his anger having not expected her to even dare to return. Relief was the second to enter his mind as she came closer and he saw that she was unharmed. There was even lightheartedness mixed in since it was Mariella who was approaching.

Guy had to rush over to the oncoming duo in order to stop the horse a safe distance away from the enemy renegades. "I thought I told you-" he chastised, only to stop himself at seeing the sorry condition Mariella was in. At this he changed to entirely different tone; a softer, more concerned tone, "Lady Mariella? Are you alright?"

She seemed unresponsive.

"Lady Mariella?" he asked again as his voice rose in the beginnings of panic, "Lady Mariella, what's wrong?"

"Safe…" was all she could whisper in that moment, her eyes coming closed as her body went slack and began to fall from the horse as easily as her eyelids had fallen into sleep.

Fortunately Guy was quick enough to awkwardly catch her in his arms, taking a moment to recover and readjust her afterward. "My lady?" he called as he gently tried to set her down on her own two feet, "My lady, are you alright?"

Weakly Mariella lifted her head to reveal hazy eyes that instantly began to sharpen upon falling upon his face. "Guy," she smiled faintly, "I'm… fine. Just a little light-headed." Then, unexpectedly, tears of relief sprang from her eyes and she wrapped her arms around his neck and burying her face into his shoulder.

Guy was at first taken aback by this action and it was a few moments before he could properly react, placing a hand on the back of her head and lightly stroking her brown waves. "What are we going to do with you?" Guy asked with an attempted smile.

Mariella pulled away to look up at him, tears still running down her cheeks even though the soft sobs had stopped. "What?" she questioned, not sure what he meant by that.

"Weren't you wearing a hair pin today?"

Mariella was confused and it nearly distressed her that he would be talking of hair pins at such a time. She remembered the hair pin she had adorned to keep the top half of her hair back and out of her face. "I was…"

As he gently stroked her hair once, Guy explained his inquisition by saying continuing, "If you keep losing hairpins at this rate, they will be coating the forest floor by the end of the month."

This made Mariella chuckle briefly, which made Guy smile in turn, stroking her hair and wiping her tears away in attempts to comfort her. It was working too. The soothing touch of Guy of Gisborne was just the gesture she needed to know that she could relax now, to know that no more harm would come to her.

"Guy, I… I…" She couldn't get any more out. Everything was jumbled inside of her head and she couldn't sort one incoherent thought from another. Her mind could not translate the messages that formed in her chest quickly enough for her to get them out. They were rushing so quickly to get out that they simply bypassed the processing area of her brain and tried going straight to her mouth. This was a futile method, however, and it all simply ended up back inside of her chest. "I want to thank you but… but… there's… I…" She couldn't think! Nothing was coming out! The only thing she was accomplishing was sounding like a babbling idiot! "Guy…" She took a deep breath to calm all of her heart's thoughts and emotions but one, "Sir Guy… Thank you."

He nodded in understanding. "Are you sure you're okay?" he asked as he moved his hands down from her hair to her shoulders and stared into her face, scrutinizing it for the slightest hint of unwellness.

Mariella nodded with the best smile she could put on. "I am now."

Guy took a few more moments to search her face for anything she might be hiding, but found nothing. Again he nodded. "Let's go," he told her as he led her over to the horse, helping her up before getting in the saddle in front of her.

Looking down to a nearby guard he said, "I trust you can take care of matters without me." He knew that there wasn't much that they needed him for now.

"Yes sir," the guard saluted, trying his best to ignore the fact that Mariella was letting her hands slide from his lord's back shoulders to encircle her arms snuggly around his middle, a gesture that Guy suddenly seemed very interested in, looking over his shoulder at her.

"Then I leave you in charge," Guy appointed the man without taking his backward gaze off the woman who was now holding so unashamedly and lifelessly onto him. Guy said nothing more as he turned the horse around and started walking it out of the clearing. Mariella's arms around him felt like the most right and natural thing there could ever have been in the world, even though he knew how she truly felt. It had been one day out of all of those that he had known her that she had ever shown the slightest hint of favoritism for him: the day in the rain. In his mind the memory of that day was sweeter than the very air he breathed. It was the only hope that he possessed that he could cling on to if he was to believe that he could ever be happy. Guy had to force himself every second that he was in her presence to ignore any of her more discouraging behavior; purposefully avoiding eye contact, smiling politely, speaking her thoughts freely so long as they had nothing to do with him. No, she would not admit that she ever had thoughts of him. She was too kind to put him down like that; too kind to admit that she didn't and couldn't love him…

Yes, a very kind girl… and beautiful… and one of the most fascinating creatures he had ever seen. That being the case, Guy had to ask himself if he was so sure that he wanted his feelings to be returned by her in the end. In his black heart Guy knew that he was no good for her. His corrupt soul would surely only spoil such a pristine and angelic nature. In fact, so innocent and pure a person could surely never love such a disgusting spirit as himself. In that moment Guy hated himself more than he had ever hated anything or anyone. He knew that by being with her all his sins would be forgiven, but in return he would be damning her. Suddenly Mariella shifted where she sat and his heart swelled at the contact even if there was no emotion behind it. Simply being near her filled him with joy and, even more importantly, hope.


	21. Connection

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**Chapter Twenty-One: Connection**

The ride was silent for the majority of its beginning which was exactly what Mariella needed: silence to ease her screaming thoughts and tranquility to rest her frenzied spirit. Gently she laid her head on Guy's back and closed her eyes. Rest. That's what she wanted and with a man like Sir Guy to take care of her it was easy to do. His scent of cool leather was so calming and luxurious that Mariella could have been lulled into a deep sleep just by breathing him in. "Sir Guy?" she murmured as she adjusted her head on his back.

"Yes?" he replied as he half-heartedly tried to look back at her.

There was a brief pause as Mariella tried to recollect what exactly it was that she had wanted to say. It occurred briefly to her that she had absolutely nothing to say at all. She simply wanted to say something, anything, to him. She wanted so badly to talk with him, to interact, to express her eternal gratitude to him, but she couldn't. "Nothing…" she sighed as she retreated into his back a little further.

The spot on which she rested her head eventually became a place of comfort to Mariella as it was quickly warmed by her own presence. She didn't want to ever leave that spot, not even when she felt the warmth of the sun on her back as they emerged from the trees into open air. Where were they that they were already coming out of the forest? Could they already be approaching Nottingham? Slowly she opened her eyes to see a flower field. Bursts of colors and delicate shapes sprinkled this clearing, the sunlight radiating their colors as if they were a dream. What was this place? Mariella slowly lifted her head as she would from a pillow, awakening in a distant land.

It was now that she realized that this was no distant land, but somewhere that was actually familiar to her: it was the clearing in which they had both sat beneath a tree only days ago already blossoming and bloomed. All around her there were familiar flowers that brought a reminder of earlier that morning. Dotting the field were clusters of bluebells, buttercups, daisies, and dandelions. Her bouquet came to mind and suddenly Mariella realized who it had been from. Color rushed to her cheeks as her grip around him loosened in embarrassment. "What are we doing here?" she questioned as she sat up to look at the back of Guy's head.

"You're tired," he pointed out, "I think you should rest for a bit before we go back to the castle."

"Thank you…" she whispered as she returned her head to his back once again, a million thoughts rushing through her head. They were thoughts of flowers, black leather, and warm sunlight, of his sweet caress, his smell, his surprisingly friendly smile, of joy, comfort, and heartbreak.

Judas stopped at the tree so that Guy could dismount and help Mariella off as well. Carefully she swung her leg over and sat sideways on the saddle, looking down at him before sliding down without any hesitation, perfectly trusting that he would help her just as he always had. It was as she slid down that she realized that the fall was longer than she had remembered, being because Gardenia was the only other horse that she had ridden as of late and she was considerably smaller. Guy caught her, of course, but Mariella's legs almost gave out due the exhaustion and surprise that she had endured. It was an instance in which she would have most likely stumbled had it not been for Guy to help her. He assisted in righting her, making sure she was steady before he smiled lightly at her. "You keep falling," he commented with a chuckle, "I'm starting to see a pattern."

"You're the only one that sees," she smiled to herself, "because you are the only one I fall for." There was a light pause which Mariella took advantage of to turn her gaze upward at him. "Just as long as you're here to catch me I won't mind."

Guy's face suddenly dropped and Mariella could have sworn that she could have heard his heart give a great thump in his chest as he stared down at her, searching deep into her eyes. He took a deep, calming inhale, exchanging it for a slow, steady exhale. Then his eyes wandered down so that Mariella could safely assume that he was staring at her lips. The smile that had been there only moments before softened in response to his behavior. Her heart radiated emotions, spreading all throughout her body from her chest into her cheeks and down to her fingertips that reached up to stroke his hair but stopped halfway and went to tuck her own hair behind her ear, casting away her eyes.

A gentle gloved hand settled itself on her cheek and steered her face upwards so that Guy could continue to study Mariella's features. He wanted to memorize every detail of her face as it was in this very moment: her eyes full of fairy light, the nervous, upturned curl of the corners of her mouth, the way that even her eyebrows were arched in celestial bliss and her forehead smooth and worry-free. It was without thinking that he leaned forward and kissed the center of this clear, soft plain and dwelled there if only for a moment. Drawing away he was finally able to come to terms with the reality of what he had just done and the things that his heart was causing him to feel. What was even worse was the frown that Mariella now gave him. The light had left her eyes. The corners of her mouth where now turned downward, and her brow had been lightly knit together, forming tiny yet noticeable wrinkles and ruining her clean forehead.

Slowly and shyly his hands slid down from her shoulders so that they took hers, leading her over to the tree with total cooperation on her part. There he helped her settle at the roots only leaving her to go tether Judas. Silently she waited for him with her legs folded elegantly to the side and her hands lying gently in her lap. Guy returned to join her, settling at her side with his back to the tree's trunk, a leg propped up with an arm resting on his knee, trying to ignore the shot of pain that raced just above his hip. "Relax," he told her meekly, "That's what you're here for."

Mariella did as she was told, lying on her back so that the grass could serve as her bed and pillow, the sun giving her the warmth of a blanket and all of it comforting and rejuvenating her the longer she held still. This spot was so comfortable… but the situation was not. Sir Guy admired her; it had been confirmed. What was she supposed to do about that? She couldn't possibly allow herself to return such feelings! And yet… she still felt the semi-familiar fluttering in her chest that she had once felt in juvenile days when such feelings were not harmful enough to be commonplace. But those flowers kept popping into her head which in turn brought her back to Guy, who was only feet away and apparently interested in her. She had to force herself not to think too much about it and simply blame it on the sweet and toxic May air.

Guy, however, did not try to fight his feelings as Mariella did. He only wallowed and pined in his misery and longing for her. Every moment that passed he was more sure of himself. He needed only to look at her to know his feelings for her. However, he also saw the consequences of having her. Not only was she off-limits spiritually, but socially as well. She was the Sheriff's ward, basically his daughter. He wanted a high price for her and Guy would be more than willing to pay any amount, but Vasey would still need to bestow his blessing. Would he give the only family he had to a man like Gisborne? If the price was right maybe so, but that was only coming from any other man. Coming from Gisborne the Sheriff would probably ask much more of him. Not only that but it would give him new power over his lackey. If he asked the Sheriff for her hand he would definitely make him pay. Guy glanced over at her and sighed. Even with the consequences in mind, he still wanted her. He wanted to love her.

"Did you get the flowers?"

Mariella's eyes popped open at the disturbance in her stream of thought. "What?" she asked, "Oh... Yes. I did. Thank you." She let a pause interrupt her before she smiled at the thought of the bouquet's uncoordinated arrangement and what must have been a desperate attempt to put it together. Poor Guy… He had tried. "They were… quaint." At this point she laughed merrily at how almost childishly they had been prepared, but they were still lovely and full of life and color. "I appreciated your effort. They're beautiful."

"I'm glad you like them," he replied as he moved a little closer to her.

"I do," she reassured him as she sat up from her spot, moved closer to the tree, and wrapped her arms around her legs with a straight back and a long neck. She smiled as she looked out to the scenery. "I was touched."

The beauty of her obvious virtue was caused Guy's heart to pound, beating so loudly he was sure that it was trying to call out to her. He dared to go subtly closer to her, hoping that he might be able to satiate his heart's desire by simply being near her. It didn't. His heart still was trying to jump out of his chest. Being closer calmed him slightly, but in exchange his temperature began to rise for her, his heart pulsing ever harder. "I'm glad that you like them," he told her again, this time in a much lower tone.

Finding it strange that Guy would repeat himself like that, Mariella felt the need to take into account the strong emotions that his voice and body gave off like a fire giving off heat. Hesitantly she turned to face him and instantly became eye locked with Guy. The clouds in his eyes told her that his mind was in a different place, portraying a greater desire that could only be blamed on the fine May afternoon. Part of Mariella wanted to run, but she found herself somehow bound to her spot, maybe even wanting to get even closer still. She was unable to bring herself to make any movement either to get away from this man or closer to him, so she was frozen stone cold. "Sir Guy?" she whispered, scared of letting her frightened heart pump color into her cheeks. She didn't know how to feel like this. She had been put under a spell and she wasn't used to being magic's victim. These emotions were strange to her so that the only thing she could do when Guy came even closer was nothing. The closer he came the less she could do, the less she felt the need, the desire, to do something.

Guy's hands rose to cup her face, touching lightly his forehead to hers before letting out a soft sigh. At this point, Mariella couldn't help but submit to him and extinguish any caution she had left, moving her head ever so slightly so that her mouth was a little closer, closer, closer. Then three words she heard, three words that she never would have expected to hear him say at a time such as that, but somehow Guy of Gisborne, Lord of Locksley, brought himself to say, "We should go."

"What?" Mariella questioned, as confusion and denial wreaked havoc on her mind like a fortress being invaded and destroyed.

"We should go," Guy repeated in a much stronger tone the moment he was barely able to tear himself away and stand up as if to get as far away from temptation as possible, "I'm sorry."

Mariella wasn't sure exactly what Guy was trying to apologize for, but she could draw from the silence in his tone that it wasn't because he had put forward the idea to go. She knew that he didn't want to leave just as much as she didn't. But they had to, she knew. They had to before May Day took its toll.

"Yes," Mariella agreed weakly as she also stood and the clarity started to creep back into her head.

At this point Guy rushed over to Judas and began to untie him with hasty and frustrated movements. Softly Mariella approached him and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. Abruptly he stopped to look over his shoulder at her, taking in a deep breath before he restated his proclamation, "I'm sorry, my lady. I can't."

She nodded in understanding for she could closely relate to his feelings. Both mounted. Neither spoke for there was nothing that could be said that would ever erase the shame created from what had just happened. A link was developing, a road connecting man and woman. Neither wanted their hearts' paths to meet for it would be a perilous and risky journey.

With this analogy in mind, Mariella couldn't help but wonder if a connection had already been made and if it had could it be broken? Stopped? It scared her where this road might take her. It was unraveling before her so quickly…


	22. Escape

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**Chapter Twenty-Two: Escape**

On the way back to the castle one would expect that the two that rode through the forest would be thinking of nothing but each other, especially after the happening that they had just experienced. Now both of them knew about the other's fluctuating feelings, Mariella's apex being that she would admit that the feelings existed, Guy's being that he would know only what he felt for her and forget everything else. Mariella was winding down now and denying that anything she felt could have been pure. Guy simply regretted letting things go that far. However, these were not the things that they were thinking of. Mariella was thinking of a different man… and so was Guy. The Sheriff of Nottingham to be specific. Both of them being connected to this man would not they both be betraying him by being together?

Guy slouched in defeat. Mariella dug her face into his back as if to hide it there. How could she have been so stupid? How? She had almost… If anything had happened…! She didn't want this. Her heart was telling her she did but her mind knew better. Giving your heart away led to someone breaking it and that was pain that was totally unnecessary and unwanted!

A twig broke in the distance, snapping Mariella's train of thought with it. Her body tensed and she lifted her head to look for the cause, but she saw nothing. A hidden threat was even worse than a visible one. "Guy…" she whispered as her hands tightened their hold on his shoulders, "Guy, I don't like this." She had reapplied her thick accent.

Guy became alert just in time to hear a rustle of leaves and an echoing voice sing out to him in the familiar melody of a childish nursery rhyme:

_Lord Gisborne with his lady fair,_

_Was trav'ling through the woods,_

_Unknownst by him he would lose her there,_

_Along with all his goods!_

Suddenly Guy became aggravated as this threat teased him so lightly. A simple re-wording of Pop Goes the Weasel was not about to frighten him. "Who's there?" he barked at the enemy, however many that might have been.

"We are," the squeaky voice answered. The echo made it impossible to determine where the speaker was.

"Who are you?" Guy demanded, unable to take this dangerous tomfoolery seriously as seriously as the threat was.

"We are the comrades of the men you've captured and killed, my lord!" he laughed as a score of men appeared out of nowhere on horses and on foot, all of them armed and angry, "It's payback time!"

"Hold on to me," Guy whispered to Mariella as softly as he could, "Tightly."

Quickly the lady obeyed and wrapped her arms firmly around his middle.

"I wouldn't get too comfortable there, my lady!" the voice called, still bodiless, "We'll be taking you away from him soon!"

Without waiting another moment Guy spurred Judas into a hard gallop away from that place with Mariella hanging on tightly to him. Behind them Mariella could hear the men chasing after them and as her heart raced in fear she realized for the first time that Guy wasn't invincible. He wasn't unbeatable. He was a simply a man and he was in grave danger. He was hopelessly outnumbered and it was up to Judas to keep him safe and out of harm's grasp. _Run, Judas, _she prayed, _Keep him safe. Don't let them take him._

Suddenly Mariella heard an arrow fly by them. The next thing she knew there was a shower of shots coming from the trees, all barely missing the fleeing prey. _Stay away,_ she thought, _Don't hurt him._

She held herself closer to him as if this could protect him from the rain of arrows or the pursuing outlaws. All of a sudden a strange thudding sound went off and pain shot through her thigh. A brief cry of pain escaped her mouth before she clenched her teeth and closed her eyes as she began to process what had just happened. She looked down to the arrow that was sticking out of her leg, the movements of Judas making it jerk around inside of her and irritating her considerably. Unfortunately her arms were too scared to let go of Guy for a single instant in order to pull it out, so it was left as it was.

Only a few moments later similar strange thuds came, but this time she felt no pain. Instead grunts of pain came from in front of her. She saw Guy without hesitation reach for his shoulder, pull the shaft out of it, and cast it aside without a second thought. That wasn't the end of it, unfortunately, for both of them. More arrows came, all of them from the front so that Guy was almost like a shield for Mariella. Realizing this she instantly moved her hands and arms in front of his vital organs, her right hand covering his heart and her arms covering as much exposed torso as they could. It wasn't much help, but it was all she could do. Then, just when she thought the arrows were lessening, she felt another searing pain, this time in her hand. Both man and woman cried out and once the pain subsided, Mariella could only worry about Guy. Her hand had been covering the area of his heart! How deeply had the arrow's tip pierced? Mariella looked up at Guy and saw that thankfully he was still alive. Sitting behind him she couldn't see his face. She couldn't tell his mood. But she did know that he hadn't been shot dead which was good for the moment.

The escape dragged on. For a while Mariella thought that they would never escape. They had eventually escaped the stations of hidden tree archers, but their pursuers were not so easily shaken. With Mariella's limited view of them and her lack of knowledge concerning the hunt, it was impossible for her to tell if they were gaining, or trapping, or falling behind. This did not cure her fears. As long as they were chasing they were considered a great threat. The next thing she knew they were firing arrows which only showcased their desperation to not let their prey escape. It was as arrows flew from behind them that she considered for the first time her own mortality. If she was shot in the back she could very likely die. Suddenly, for the first time during that chase, she was concerned for her own safety. Tears filled her eyes as she realized that this could be the day that she died.

Just when she thought that her life would surely end that day they were hit by the western sun as they broke out of the trees and into the open, Judas galloping underneath them towards the gates which were slowly opening in recognition of the black rider. Once horse and riders had reached the safety of its limits the portcullis was lowered to prevent any unwanted followers after the new arrivals. Guy did not slow once inside, however. Instead he raced on to the castle, the people below them getting out of the way as quickly as possible for fear of the possibility of being trampled.

Only when reaching the courtyard of the castle did he stop, being very careful of how he moved with Mariella still attached to him with the arrow. Men came out to greet the lord, but he stopped them, telling them to stay away. Looking to the arrow coming from both him and the lady they understood why they had been commanded to wait. "Mariella," he whispered softly, already calming her frightened spirits, "I need to take this out now, but it won't hurt you as much as you think it will. You have to trust me on that." His hand gripped the wood of the arrow very near her hand. "Press your hand as hard as you can to me. Do not move it from that spot no matter what." Mariella did what he told her to and applied as much pressure as she could. "Mariella… While still holding your hand as best as you can to me, tell me honestly... Do you trust me?"

Just as Mariella's mouth was forming the word "yes" Guy yanked the arrow away and Mariella had barely enough time to figure out what he was doing until it was already done, the pain being significantly less than she had predicted.

With that done Guy threw away the cursed arrow and got down. From here Mariella saw that he was in worse shape than she had imagined he was. He had been shot several times in the torso—none of the injuries instantly fatal—and also in the calf. As he was pulling that arrow out Mariella's eyes saw another wound that was not projectile made; blood leaked out of a tear in his clothes, making the black leather gleam. It was just above the hip and looking down at the sleeve of her gown she saw that his blood was on it from where she had held on to him. She watched him as if she weren't really there, as if this had already happened and she was powerless to interfere. Weakly her mind stood by as he helped her down, her body automatically following his lead without a drop of input from her mind. Only when pain shot through her as Guy yanked the arrow out of her leg did she realize this was happening in real time. The next thing that Guy did was to order the doctor for to tend to Mariella's wounds.

Now she realized that she was on the ground, that he had already pulled her irritation from her leg, and he was now lifting her into his arms and carrying her inside. "Guy…" she spoke as she began to process the fact that she could speak, "Guy… Guy! Guy! Put me down! Put me down right now! You're not well! You have to see a doctor! Put me down! You shouldn't put the extra stress on yourself like this!"

But he wouldn't listen. He was limping his way to the infirmary where there were already a number of people waiting to be stitched and bandaged. "Doctor!" he yelled which caused the old man to look up from the current healing he was doing, "She needs help."

"Guy, I'm fine. Really," Mariella insisted, "Please put me down."

The doctor gave Mariella a quick glance and returned to mending the arm of his noble patient. "She can wait," he pronounced, "Have a servant stitch her up and I'll examine her for any more damage later."

"No," Guy sneered, "You will tend to her **now**! This is the Sheriff's ward!"

"And this here is a duke! I'm sorry, my lord, but I already have my hands full," the doctor apologized, "Get a servant to tend to her. It would appear to me that she only needs a few stitches. Nothing too bad." Then his eyes examined Guy. "You, on the other hand, are in a worse condition. I would suggest putting her down. You don't look to be in well enough health to be carrying the burden of her weight."

"Trust me, she's no burden," he growled as he turned on his heel and left.


	23. Stitches and Kisses

**I like that I'm getting a couple more reviews than normal! Thank you, guys! I guess these little reminders might be working! :)**

**Chapter Twenty-Three: Stitches and Kisses**

"Guy," Mariella begged as she was being carried away by him, "Please! Listen to the doctor! Put me down! You need medical attention!" She yelled like this all the way up to her room where Guy kicked open the already ajar door and set her on her bed.

Guy's blue eyes searched the room as he ignored his charge's pleas. "Do you keep anything in here?" he asked when he spotted nothing of use at first glance.

Mariella sighed in defeat. He wouldn't listen to her. "There are stitching supplies in the drawer there," she pointed as she spoke, "In a box."

A servant rushed in and immediately announced, "I was sent to help." She carried a bowl of clean water and bandages.

"Thank you," Guy told her as he gestured to the bedside table so that the girl could set her things down, "Now help her."

"No," Mariella contradicted in a voice that seemed just as stern as his, "Go and fetch more water and bandages. Then come back here."

And before Guy could argue the girl had bolted off leaving Mariella to shut the door. "Roll your pant leg up and take off your shirt," she ordered as she turned back to him.

"No," he denied, "We work on you first."

"I'm not the one who's nearly dying!"

"They're only flesh wounds," he insisted, "Nothing fatal."

This was impossible! It was unbelievable has incredibly stubborn he was! Then a thought came to her. "How does this sound…" she offered, "I let you stitch up my hand and then we can work on you."

Guy considered this for a moment. When Mariella saw the hesitation in his eyes she went on, "It's the best you'll get. I won't let you fix my leg. I can do that myself."

Gravely he nodded. They both went to sit on the bed, Guy removing his gloves as he did so. It was the first time, she noticed, that she had seen his bare hands. They were just as she had expected; they were sized to the normal male extent that was beyond Mariella's female comprehension and their texture seemed as coarse and worn as the hands of most men she had seen. Then she surrendered her own hand to him and he began to gingerly clean it. Mariella stared at the gash in her hand, wincing every so often at any irritating contact. She could see through it! It was disgusting to see such a lesion on her hand and to know that the fingers, the palm, the muscles and bone inside were hers.

"It doesn't look like a lady's hand anymore, does it?" she smiled, even though her eyes looked as if they wanted to cry, "It will scar, definitely, and it will be a big one at that."

"Don't ladies have creams and lotions to rid themselves of scars?" Guy asked. It seemed that women had a potion for everything these days.

"Yes," she said, "But I don't think I could get rid of this. Maybe it's possible to lessen it so that it will be more inconspicuous and less ugly."

"It could never be ugly," he argued, "It's part of you."

Mariella's heart gave a great bump in her chest and it was suddenly jolted to life. He finished her hand in silence, doing his best to be gentle. At some point the servant woman came back with more bandages and water, but she was quickly sent away again by Mariella. Now it was Guy's turn.

"Take your shirt off," she told him. The words felt shameful on her mouth even though she had mended many a shirtless man before.

"My lady, I could just wait until someone else was available," Guy protested, sensing her unease, "You don't have to-"

"I want to make sure that you are taken care of," Mariella insisted as she tried undoing his jacket herself, too hasty in her wanting to get it done and over with.

Guy caught her hands in their race to undress him and suddenly she realized the lunacy of her hasty actions. What was she doing?

Gradually Guy released his grip on her and then took a moment to concentrate on her face. Mariella noticed that he wasn't studying her, but simply gazing at her. She avoided his stare and went back to the task of taking his clothes off, this time with much more care and humility. Her heart pounded in her ears as she removed this man's clothes, her hands trembled and fumbled with straps and fastenings as she was struck senseless by his intense stare. Even when his jacket was open he remained content and still. It was at this point that Mariella was scared to go on.

"Guy… You're staring," Mariella pointed out as she went to take off his jacket and then move to his shirt, making sure to blockade her feelings as best as she could, which was very difficult to do at this point. Once his last layer was removed, however, and his bare chest was exposed she wasn't sure how much longer her defenses could hold up. To be attracted to a man emotionally like she was attracted to Guy was one matter that was easily handled, but to add such a strong physical attraction as this sight was inducing was something that made her absolutely heady.

"My apologies, my lady." He tried his best to concentrate his eyes on something else, but that only made Mariella want to glance up from her work to make sure that he was looking away. These glimpses of him were not helping her blockade for, as much as she hated to admit it, she was attracted to him… now more than ever.

She finished her work as quickly as she could and began to clean up the stitches in his left shoulder, careful not to disturb them. "You're very lucky, Sir Guy," she commented in hopes to distract herself and him, "This arrow was incredibly close to killing you in two different ways. A little deeper and it would have pierced a lung. A little over and it would have pierced your heart."

"Then I owe my life to you twofold," he replied, "I'm breathing now because you were protecting my heart."

"Please, Sir Guy," Mariella brushed the statement off as she began to bandage her work, "Don't embellish it. I was only trying to hold on."

"All the same you saved my life." He caught her bandaged hand and gently stroked it. "I am only sorry that it cost you." He kissed the wraps gently before releasing her. Suddenly the spark returned to his eyes and she could tell that he would start staring again. She finished bandaging and then did her very best to work up every bit of desperately needed courage.

"Please stop, Guy," she begged with a voice that she was unable to keep from quivering as she rose and began cleaning up the mess on the table, "I've already explained… how your staring makes me feel."

"I'm sorry," he responded automatically and tore his eyes away from her, "I can't help it."

This answer gave Mariella pause in her work. "If you can't help it… then I think it's safe to assume that you're not sorry."

Lifting his gaze to her, Guy examined Mariella with a longing that he was afraid that he could no longer repress. "Forgive me, my lady," he told her as he rose from the bed to stand at her side, "but it is out of my control. Something about you enchants me body, mind, and soul and I'm tired of trying to hide it."

"Guy," she warned, "Stop it."

"Why?" he asked as he reached out and stroked her cheek. It reminded her of all the reasons why a woman should enjoy a man's touch but she was somehow able to banish the recollection as soon as she pulled away from it.

"I can't," she insisted as she tried to resume her tidying up, "I just can't!"

"Why not?" he interrogated, "Am I not good enough for you?"

"Believe me, Guy, you are plenty good enough for me." Once the words were out others came pouring. "You are a very fine man and any woman would be lucky to be called yours. In fact, I think I'm hardly worthy of your affections and as much as I desire them I… I… I just can't!"

"Mariella!" He took her face gently in his hands as he made her look at him. "Am I or am I not the man you desire? If I am not then say the word and that will be the end of it. I won't bother you with my expressions any longer. You won't even be able to tell that I harbor feelings for you afterwards. It would be as if I never wanted you. But… if I am a man that you think you could love then I will assure you a thousand times over that you can trust me to make you happy because it is all I want, Mariella." He paused. "So, am I… or am I not?"

Words escaped her. Her feelings darted about so violently that she couldn't grasp one long enough to decipher it. It brought such confusion and such woe that her eyes began to tear even though in her heart she was confident of the answer. "Y-You are," she stammered, "You are. It's you." At this point the emotion was so powerful that her eyes began to sting with tears. "It can't be anyone else but you."

"Then why won't you accept me?" he demanded as he craned his face in closer to her, staring into her eyes as he wiped tears away from them. He moved his hands down to her shoulders so he could see her face fully.

"I can't!" she repeated reflexively with tears flowing now. It was all she could think of to say. Nothing else could portray the danger that her bubbling emotions foresaw.

"Mariella," he begged as he leaned in closer still, his face becoming dangerously close to hers. Guy could see his happiness slipping away from him. His worst nightmare had followed him into the waking realm and it was being played out before his eyes which only showed pain in them now. That was the only way he could describe what he was physically and emotionally feeling at that moment. Though they were both present, neither sadness nor anger was prominent in his heart, but he was sure in the fact that there was pain. Stroking her face, wiping away her tears he voiced his final plea in a desperate whisper, "All I ask is to love you. Please… allow me that much." With that he pressed his lips firmly against hers in the kiss he had wanted to give her for so long.

It was with the locking of their lips that all of Mariella's emotional channels were unlocked. It was the fire that burned the book of rules which she had restrained herself with and also melted the sheet of ice she had formed around her heart to avoid temptations such as these. Suddenly it made perfect sense to want him. So, she returned Guy's kiss with such zeal that he was slightly surprised by it, but altogether immensely pleased. Now finally free from her untrusting restrictions she didn't even hesitate when her hands reached up to touch Guy. Her fingers ran through the black locks of his hair, entangling themselves as the kiss deepened and Guy pulled her closer to his body. It was all so clear now that she wanted him and he wanted her and for these few moments that's all that ever existed. Mariella had been thrown into a different world the moment she had decided to kiss him back. In this world there was no such thing as heartbreak or happily-never-afters. There was only him, her, and the feelings they shared.

When Guy began to pull away Mariella savored the last few moments of the kiss, tasting it on her lips even though it was now done. Sweetly he stroked her cheek and smiled. She smiled back at him as she looked into his eyes, something she had long believed finally confirmed in his gaze: She was safe with him.


	24. Standing Ground

**I am so sorry that it's been so long! Please forgive me and review? I'll try to keep up the pace!**

**Chapter Twenty-Four: Standing Ground**

"Mariella." Guy whispered her name so softly that she could have mistaken it for a gentle breeze. "I must go."

"I know…" Mariella sighed as she slowly entwined her fingers into his, "I know…"

Gently Guy took Mariella's hand and raised it to his lips, placing a loving kiss on her wrist and then into her palm. "You don't know how happy you've made me today."

"Actually… I think I do," the sweet lady replied as she played with his hand, "It is my joy too, after all."

"So it is," Guy smiled as he rested his forehead against hers, "But I really must go."

"Then go," Mariella smiled as she pulled herself away from him, "Far be it from me to keep you from your duty."

Smiling back, Guy watched her with a renewed fascination as she coyly removed herself from him. He watched her as she limped about, almost unphased by her wound. He watched her as she picked up his shirt, stroking it delicately as if it were made of fine silk instead of common linen. He watched her as she extended her arm to him, offering the article of clothing for him to put on. Guy took a step forward and he was suddenly reminded that he too had been shot in the leg. Readjusting his stride he was able to approach her, accept his shirt, and begin to pull it over his head, very careful not to undo the fine stitch work that now decorated different parts of his torso.

"I want you to be very careful, Guy," Mariella instructed, even though Gisborne could sense a hint of request in her tone, "Try to put as little stress on your stitches as possible. I don't want you undoing anything I've done. And I want you to see someone about your leg before you set out."

"I will," Guy nodded, "And you see to it that your leg is tended to." There was only a command in this statement, however softly it was presented.

Mariella nodded as she collected his jacket from where Guy had discarded it. "You'd better be going then," she told him quietly as she put the jacket into its owner's arms, "You will surely be missed soon."

Her eyes were cast down the floor and suddenly Guy was reminded of their early acquaintanceship. Smiling, he gently stroked her cheek and pressed his lips to hers. The next thing they knew the door was swinging open and they tore themselves apart, but it was too late. Mariella covered her face in embarrassment as Mark was stopped dead in his tracks, looking from man to woman. "My God," he breathed, "Mariella…?"

At that Guy made a hasty exit, throwing on his jacket as he went. The other two watched him go, Mariella staying silent and shamed and Mark with his eyes wide and staring after Guy. Once the man in black was out of sight Mark turned back to his friend. "Mariella…" he whispered in disbelief, "You and… and… HIM? What are you thinking?"

"I don't know, Mark!" Mariella cried as she pressed her palms into the sides of her head, "I think I'm going crazy! I don't know what's coming over me!"

"Don't know what's come over you?" Mark repeated, "Well, you'd better pull yourself together and soon. He's evil, Mariella. He's one of _them_."

"One of _'them'_?" The word tasted disgusting on her lips. It made it seem as if Guy was the enemy. "Guy is not evil! He is a good man! What on earth makes you think otherwise?"

"All will be explained soon," Mark promised, "You must come with me, my lady. We must hurry while there is still unsettlement."

"Wait. Where are we going?" Mariella asked before she could consider following, "And why?"

"To the other… candle watchers." He chose the word carefully even though there was not another soul around to overhear, "The others wish to meet you."

"Others?"

"Hurry, Mariella! We don't have much time!"

"But-"

"But what?" Desperation was starting to fill his eyes. "It's either now or never."

"Why should I go?" For some reason unknown to her, Mariella simply couldn't shake the fear that resided in her heart. She could feel it strengthen and spread within herself the longer she fought it. But then something in Mark's powder blue eyes exorcised it like a miracle panacea.

"Do you trust me, Mariella?" His tone was soft and reassuring and the answer came easily to her.

"Yes," she told him, "I do."

"Then come." Mark extended his hand to her and gently she placed hers in it. With that done he began leading her away from the room, down the hall, and out into the court yard, and onto a fresh horse only to gallop out of Nottingham and into Sherwood.

* * *

"You may remove your blindfold now, my lady," Mariella heard Mark say and so she readily obeyed.

The area around her was spotted with tents, campfires, and men going about their business, who only spared her the occasional acknowledgment of her being a newcomer by giving her a brief glances. It had appeared that Mark had taken her to what she had to assume was a camp for outlaws. Still she could not help herself from inquiring, "What is this place?"

"Our base," Mark told her as he helped her from her horse, "This is where we are settled for now… until we move again. I brought you here because our leader would like to speak with you."

"You mean Robin Hood?" Mariella asked as she searched for that familiar face.

"No," Mark responded, "I mean Brock."

Suddenly a man stepped out of a nearby tent. He stood so tall and strong that the first word that popped into Mariella's head when she first saw him was 'giant'. Brock's very fair hair barely touched his shoulders and his armor still adorned his body making him look as if he was ready to go back to battle at a moment's whim. However, once more accustomed to his presence Mariella was able to examine the fact that she had seen larger men that were far more deserving of her fear. That, unfortunately, did nothing to lessen the awe she felt now.

"So," he said in a gravelly voice, "This is our honorable Lady Mariella?"

"This is she," Mark confirmed, an unhappy tone edging into his tone as he thought of Mariella's collective work for them—or lack thereof, "Mariella. This is our leader, Brock."

"How do you do, girl?" Brock asked as he rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet, "Staying out of trouble?"

"If only," Mark growled to himself.

"What was that, Mark?" Brock questioned his underling, looking at him through one eye.

"Brock!" a new voice screamed, accompanied by the crescendo of galloping hooves. All three looked up and saw Robin Hood approaching and he was in a terrible mood. He came to a halt right next to the group and maintained control of his horse as he went on, "We agreed that there would be no ambush today!"

"So it was you behind the ambush today?" Mariella cried as she turned on Brock, "You were the one that attacked the festival."

"Aye," the gruff nodded, "But we had good reason. It was the only time the Sheriff would be out of his fortress without a guard. We couldn't pass up the opportunity."

"I thought we were a team, Brock," Robin bubbled, "Partners. You shouldn't have launched an attack without consulting me. If you had you would have known how stupid I would have thought it was to try and attack a large gathering of innocent people!"

"Stop it!" Mariella commanded to both of them, "Can you all just stop bickering for five minutes and tell me what I have to do with any of this?"

"You're our link to the Sheriff and Gisborne," Mark explained, "But you're becoming a little too linked to Gisborne in my opinion…"

"What are you getting at, boy?" Brock asked, totally lost on the matter.

"Guy of Gisborne has taken a special interest in Mariella," Mark tattled, "And she's just as interested in him."

"Who are you to say that I'm interested in him?" Mariella bit, "I myself don't know whether or not I am!"

There was a pause as all men stared at her.

"Do you mean to say that he has an interest in you but you don't have an interest in him?" Robin asked with an expression that's interest was rivaled only by Brock's.

"I think so," Mariella peeped, "Why is that important?"

"Gentlemen…" Brock smiled, "I think we have our newest spy."

"What?" Mariella shrieked, "No! That is where I draw the line! I will not be turned against Vasey and Guy!"

"Mariella!" Mark exclaimed, "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that you are turning me against the only family I know and that you have given me no reason to do so!"

"No reason? The reason should be right there in front of your face!" Mark was getting angry now. "Look around you! There are honest men here turned criminal because of him. That one lost his family, that one his home, that one his finger, that one a wife, him a brother, and him daughter! There are countless people who have suffered at his hand, countless who will suffer, and countless who have had their suffering ended by him. Tell me why you are so faithful to this monster!"

Mariella looked around at all the men Mark had indicated as having been wronged by her godfather and they stared back at her. She saw their losses in their eyes and couldn't help but feel the sharp point of Mark's words work into her chest because in them she saw a little bit of herself. "He is my only family," she was able to choke out, "He is all I have."

"I see…" Brock growled, "Mark… Take the lady back… I think we should look elsewhere for aid to save Laura and the others."

Laura… Mariella felt a shot of guilt shoot through her. "I'll still help any way I can," she interjected, "I just won't betray Vasey or Guy."

"I'm sorry, but we want full commitment," Brock told her, "You may be willing to work for both sides now, but you also may be willing to betray us later. I won't take that chance. I'm sorry, but your services will no longer be required." With that he turned on his heel and left them.

Robin sighed and turned to Mariella. "Lady Mariella," he said, "I'm sorry, but he's right. If we can't trust you we can't use you. Mark… Take her back."

"Yes, sir." Mark nodded. After that Robin left them too and so Mark and Mariella were left alone.

"I'll… take you back," Mark mumbled, "C'mon…"


	25. Acceptance

Author's Note: Some of you might know, but for those of you that don't... I love reviews. :)

**Chapter Twenty-Five: Acceptance**

The night was quiet yet somehow alive. The festival's campers were all soundly sleeping in their tents, resting in preparation for the next day's celebrations. Guy could already feel the May dew gathering around him as he lay out on a blanket, staring up at the stars and trying to sort through the day's events in his head. It was hard to believe that it had only been that morning that he had been a normal man, waking to just another day of taking orders from the Sheriff. He'd had no idea that when he would be laying down to sleep later that night that this would be where he'd end up. He couldn't even sleep with the knowledge of what had happened. He'd danced with a beautiful woman. He'd protected her from mortal danger. He had finally professed his burning affections for her. But the best of all of it was that on top of all of this, he'd finally willed himself to get what he had wanted for so long; a kiss from the soft lips of an angel.

Recalling that memory was like he was reliving the very moment. He could still taste her on his mouth, the memory of the flavor as fresh and exhilarating as the actual action. The damp cold of the May night was quickly left behind as his temperature rose from a quickly beating heart. He was elated at the very thought of her kiss, her touch, her smell, even the sound of her voice, her laugh, her funny little accent. He wasn't alone in this clearing with the thought of her in his head. He knew that when he returned to the castle the next morning, he would return to the castle to collect her for festivities that would resume that day.

This anticipation would keep him up all night. However, the prediction of the upcoming sleepless night could not stop him from enjoying every last cherished thought of her, no matter the consequences of the feelings she inspired within him. He was grateful to have them at all. All of the sleepless nights in the world were well worth each and every moment he could have feeling like this. He was grateful to have her. Even so, he knew he needed sleep. The best he could do now was close his eyes and hope that he would exchange thoughts of Mariella for dreams of her.

* * *

Night had already fallen and Guy was still not back. Now it was dark. The castle was quiet as were the structures beyond the courtyard walls. The village of Nottingham was sleeping, but not Mariella. A restless mind would not allow her to. Having given up on the idea of sleep long ago, she sat on the edge of her bed, her body weak from exhaustion and her mind toeing the border of unconsciousness. Desperate for rest, Mariella sorted through the day's events in her head, trying to resolve all of the regrets that had formed because of them. She cursed herself for her girlish stupidity. All that had happened had only been her emotions getting the best of her. Her loneliness was feeding off of the situation, giving her the hunger to make herself want Guy just so that the awful feeling would go away. She could find no other reason for it. She didn't want Guy. She just wanted someone… anyone. It was a common cause of love affairs and she had fallen for it.

With that thought in mind, Mariella tried to configure the reasons in her head as to why she could possibly want to enter into this affair at all. She had to figure out what it was about Guy that made this time different than the other times a man came courting.

First of all, the most appealing factor of the temptation was that Guy seemed sincere. Men before him had asked her to dance, had asked for a kiss, had asked for many more things that she was not willing to give outside of wedlock. She did not see any of those impure desires in Guy's intentions. When she closed her eyes and thought about him, the first images that came to mind were of him him smiling at her, reaching for her, gazing at her, but never any undesirable, sinful expressions.

His intentions were pure, she decided, but that didn't explain how she truly felt about him. When she thought about him, she felt… her heart start to race. She felt her temperature start to rise. She felt the urge to be closer to him. It was a reaction like non she had ever experienced. However, the one thing that was out of place and set everything off-balance was the contradicting desire to stay away from him. And so she was faced with a dilemma. She was afraid of being near a man that could be very good for her. There was no reason for it. No reason at all… Her fear was baseless. Guy made her feel so safe. Yet when he was near her her heart quivered with fright, words failed her. Mariella lifted her hands from her lap to find them shaking in midair, but whether it was from weariness or emotion she did not know. Finally she slowly slipped into the depths of slumber...

Their clearing looked beautiful even at night. The stars sparkled overhead. The moon cast a blue effect over the usually green foliage. The cold was trying to soak its way under her skin, but something was keeping it out. Something wrapped around her kept her body heat from escaping. It was like an invisible force, snuggly wrapped around her like a blanket. After a slight shift the force solidified into two strong arms, encircling her in such a fond way that she had no doubt in her mind as to who it was. Then suddenly a slight breeze blew over her, carrying not a chill but a scent. It was the distinct scent of soft leather and musk, a scent which Mariella was beginning to grow evermore fond of. A slight shift in his movement reminded Mariella once again of the arms that enveloped her and they gave her a reassuring squeeze which caused a start in her heart that was slowly becoming an addiction. Softly he whispered something in her ear, but before she had time to process what he had said, she slipped back into consciousness and it was lost to her.

Mariella awoke to the slowing beat of her own heart, her previous feelings of joy fading with it. The sunlight that shone through her open window shattered the illusion of her dream, leaving Mariella with an unusual sense of isolation and confusion. It was morning. She had been dreaming the entire time. Now the loss having his arms around her made Mariella acknowledge the loss of the emotion that the dream had inspired in her bosom. However, upon contemplation of her dream, the feeling began to slowly return to her chest and, for once, stayed there. It was at that moment that she knew a change had occurred within her and there was now no desire to go back.

* * *

"Are you all right, my dear?"

The question brought Mariella soaring out of her head and back to the breakfast table where Uncle Vasey was staring at her, his brow furrowed and his eyes worried.

"Fine," she answered with a smile. She had been staring at the empty seat across from her which Guy of Gisborne would sometimes occupy. He had still not returned. Yet no matter how much the anxiety within her burned with the urge to question this, Mariella knew that she could not inquire after his whereabouts. Such questions might arouse other, unwanted questions within her guardian. It was this slight possibility that made the act a forbidden curiosity. Mariella was far from ready to let slide this new, undeveloped secret. It was not yet mature enough to be unveiled. It first had to be lived out a little so that it could fully form and be considered a secret at all.

"Good," Vasey nodded as he returned to his plate, "And are you ready for your second day of festivities? Hopefully you'll actually be able to see this one the whole way through."

"Yes, hopefully," Mariella repeated, "For the most part I enjoyed yesterday. I'm curious as to what a full day of it would be like."

"Well then," he said as he wiped his mouth with a napkin, "If you're done then we best be off. The sporting competitions are starting up today and I don't want to miss it." As he rose something quickly came to mind and he stopped in his tracks. "Mariella," he called, "Why aren't you wearing that locket I gave you the other day?"

The mention of the necklace made Mariella suddenly realize that she had almost forgotten about the gift entirely, which explained to her why she hadn't even thought of wearing it. Of course, she couldn't tell Vasey this, so she had to mold the truth into a palatable form. "I do not wear jewelry often," she explained, "Putting on jewelry is not a ritual I am accustomed to, so I don't think of putting any on, more or less such a new and important piece. I would be much too scared of losing it or it being damaged if I wore it."

"You underestimate its importance, my dear," Vasey insisted, "It is far too important to be locked away from the world. Go fetch it. Now."

This statement confused Mariella. He had not told her it had such a great value as he was implying. "Besides you gifting it to me, what makes it so important, Uncle Vasey?"

"Just go get it," he ordered as he pulled his gloves from his pocket and began slipping them on, "I'll go wait in the carriage."

The tone of authority in Vasey's voice eliminated all other urge in Mariella to question him further or delay any longer, so she gave a quick bow of her head and rushed off to her room to retrieve the bobble, put it around her neck, and hurry to the courtyard where the carriage waited for her. An attendant opened the door for her, helped her in, closed the door behind her, shutting her inside with Vasey.

"That's a girl," Vasey smiled at seeing the locket around her neck, "It suits you better than I imagined. You really should wear it more often."

"Yes, my lord," Mariella simply responded accompanied with a meek nod and followed by her redirecting her attention out the window.

The Sheriff saw this reaction as a sign of withdrawal and realized that she was reacting to his behavior. Knowing what she wanted to hear, he gave a great, exasperated sigh and announced, "It was your mother's."

Mariella's eyebrows shot up and her eyes went wide as they turned on him with awe, her hand automatically finding the locket where it laid against her chest. "My mother?" she repeated with astonishment, "But she never… I never saw her… How did you…?" She couldn't seem to finish a single sentence, her mind was whirling with surprise.

"She gave it to me long ago," he explained, "Whether you were too young to remember or unborn I don't recall, but it was certainly a long, long time ago. You look so much more like her now..."

With that said Mariella slipped back into silence, knowing not what else she could possibly say. Vasey took advantage of the period of silence as a chance to examine a change in his ward. Today she had dressed in one of her finer dresses. Green silks ran over her slim body like rainwater down a smooth hillside, an even, steady flow that swayed about her wrists and feet. An embroidered, brown belt encircled her hips, its ends trailing more than halfway down the front of her skirt. Her hair was actually styled today with a leaf-shaped clasp holding back two twisted strands of hair that formed a mortal halo around her head and showcased her facial features with confidence and grace. In addition with the locket she looked more beautiful than ever, which concerned him.

"I, uh, can't help but notice that you've dressed up, today," he began, "Any reason why?"

Before she could conjure up an answer, the carriage came to a halt and the door was opened. The driver was ready to help Mariella exit, which she accepted quickly in order to escape Vasey's inquiries. Luckily for her, the Sheriff let the matter die in the carriage, nearly forgetting about it as he looked around the grounds, festivities already beginning to pick up momentum. "Lovely day for a festival, isn't it?" he asked one of the nearby guards who had been stationed, like others, as extra security around the clearing. The guard, of course, gave no reply as it was not really expected of him. So, the Sheriff offered his arm to Mariella, which she took, and lead her into the midst of it, with a simple passing thought: "I suppose we should try to find Gisborne now, eh?"


	26. Breathe

**Chapter Twenty-Six: Breathe  
**

The two bare-chested men struggled in front of an on-looking crowd, forcing all of their strength against each other in a desperate fight for dominance. Their brows dripped with the sweat and blood that had been drawn from their efforts throughout the fight. Then suddenly the smaller one of them shifted his weight causing his opponent to force himself forward into the dirt. Taking advantage of this the first man swung himself about the falling man and placed a foot on either side of him while pulling his torso up by his arms, causing his body to arch into a defenseless position. The victim struggled and writhed in attempts to escape the hold, but even trying to move only caused him more pain as his own inflexibility was being used against him. Still, he wouldn't call for mercy.

He only struggled more, pushing himself further as he tried to wriggle out of his opponent's influence. But his adversary had the advantage. He took his prey's arms and wrenched them closer together, bringing a cry of pain tearing out into the crowd of spectators and then followed by a loud, crisp popping sound as a shoulder dislocated. The scream became louder instantly and finally the man yelled, "Mercy! Mercy, for God's sake, mercy!"

The victor dropped the loser to the ground as the master of ceremonies stepped forward to raise his arm in triumph, calling, "Winner: Sir Dante of Cravesbury!"

Appreciative applause arose from the crowd while Sir Dante kept his stern and serious expression, only now slowly beginning to relax again. His eyes looked around until he found the seats of honor belonging to the host, the Sheriff of Nottingham, and his court who did not seem to enjoy the performance as much as the rest of the audience. Once the master of ceremonies released his wrist Dante made a direct line over to the section, accepting and using a towel offered to him by a servant as he went.

"Sir Dante," the Sheriff greeted with an air of familiarity that surprised Mariella, "I must say that was quite an impressive display."

"Thank you, my lord," the new arrival responded as he set the towel over his bare shoulder and let a smile suddenly turn him into a person different than the one who had only just been twisting a stronger man's arm into submission, "I'm glad you enjoyed it." Then his eyes wandered to the other occupants of the section. His eyes stopped when landing on Mariella, making her shift with expectancy of the usual reaction. "And who, might I ask, is this young woman by your side, Sheriff?"

"This, Sir Dante, is my ward, Mariella," Vasey introduced with a proud smile and a gesture, "Mariella. This is Lord Dante. He's an old… or rather, a young friend of mine."

"Lady Mariella," Dante repeated with a devilish grin that sent a wave of caution through Mariella, "I was unaware that you had a ward, Sheriff."

"You aren't the only one who has been surprised by it," Vasey assured him with a sort of boredom at encountering such a reaction so often, "Trust me."

Dante's smiling gaze wandered over from the woman on the Sheriff's left to the man on his right. "Sir Gisborne," he greeted, "It's been a while."

"Yes," Gisborne nodded with a set jaw, and a tightened fist, "It's been a long time."

"Yes, a long time," Dante repeated, "Last I heard you were in France."

"Well, I've been back for a few years now," Guy said matter-of-factly, obviously not enjoying the conversation.

"Good to hear," Dante nodded, "You wouldn't happen to be participating in any games this year, are you?" While saying this he managed a backwards glance towards the wrestling area to see who he might have to face later.

"No," Guy replied, "Not this year."

"Shame," Dante sighed with feigned disappointment, "You've been well, I assume?"

"Fairly," Gisborne said now getting irritated by Dante's nonchalance, "And what of you? Last I heard you were still living off of your father."

Dante's smile lessened for a moment as he cast his eyes down to the ground. "Actually my father passed away last year leaving me head of his estate. I am Sir Dante no more. I am now Lord Dante of Cravesbury."

"Your father passed?" Vasey remarked with more surprise than remorse, "I hadn't heard. What happened?"

"Illness," Dante answered with a sigh, "He was along in his years and wasn't much of a match for it."

"Shame," Vasey said, "He was a… good man, I suppose."

"Thank you, but it's been over a year now," Dante went on as his smile began to return, "I've recovered and moved on. So let's not spoil these festivities with such lamentations, shall we?"

"Very well," Vasey nodded, "Then I should let you go and continue your celebrating."

"Yes, yes… I suppose I should get cleaned up before my next round, shouldn't I?" Dante agreed with that handsome grin reappearing on his face, "It was nice seeing you both again." His smile grew as he turned to Mariella. "And it was very nice to meet you, Lady Mariella." With that he gave a quick bow and took his leave.

"Come to think of it, why aren't you competing, Gisborne?" the Sheriff interrogated with an unusual amount of confusion once Dante had left them, "I heard you were actually quite good."

"I lost the drive to participate in fighting competitions when fighting turned from a game to a survival skill," Guy answered, seeming to get evermore annoyed the more people tried to speak to him, "I had my fill yesterday and am not eager to gain new injuries nor to worsen those I already have."

"Oh, come now, Gisborne," Sheriff scoffed, "Don't be a pansy. Some of these men are fighting with broken bones. You only have a few cuts and bruises to complain of."

"I agree with Sir Gisborne, Uncle," Mariella cut in, even though she was the least educated on the situation of Gisborne's wrestling capabilities, "He should not fight unnecessarily. He could be severely weakened by the struggle and who knows when it will be necessary to fight again? Every day seems to be a death threat around here. And what would happen if your most loyal servant is no longer able to perform his duties?"

"Oh, you two are such worry-warts," the Sheriff muttered as he returned his attention to the battle ground, "I'm sure Gisborne would do just fine, injured or not."

"Well, I'm sure he would," Mariella went on, "but I'm not so sure that someone else-"

"Dante has grown into a fine man, hasn't he?" Vasey interrupted, wanting to change the subject, "I remember when he used to be such a gawky, lanky boy and now look at him. Shot right up and is taking on some of the best wrestlers in the region."

"Yes, very impressive," Mariella sighed without enthusiasm, "Would you mind if I excused myself. I don't think I can take much more of this barbarianism. If I see one more broken bone, dislocated join, or any other injury I don't know what I'll do."

"I'd imagine that you'd be used seeing such injuries," Vasey commented, "but I don't want to bore you, so I might as well let you go."

"Thank you, Uncle Vasey," Mariella rushed as she got up and made a hasty exit.

However, Mariella hadn't gotten twenty feet away when Guy overtook her, catching up and matching her pace. "He thought it wouldn't be decent to let you wander by yourself," Guy explained plainly, "I, of course, had to oblige."

"But of course," Mariella nodded, not able to fully enjoy Guy's company after the occurrence of meeting Lord Dante and the conversation that had followed him. That man was a stranger to her world and yet he already seemed to know more about its components than she did. Dante was already so familiar with the men in her life and even seemed to know their past better than she. "Why did you go to France?" Mariella asked suddenly and without thinking.

The question seemed to bother Guy almost immediately after it was asked. His pace slowed causing Mariella to slow along with him, fearing that she had brought something up she shouldn't have.

"I will only say that I had no other choice," Guy told her with a darkness Mariella had never heard in his voice, "It is a story for another day. I don't want to talk about it."

A pang of remorse pumped out of Mariella's heart and into the rest of her body, making her feel heavier and lighter all at the same time. "I'm sorry," she said softly and sincerely, "I didn't know… It's just that Lord Dante—"

"I don't want to discuss Dante either," Guy stopped her. She could tell he was trying to keep his tone soft, but the sharp steel in it was still present in it; covered, yes, but present.

"Right," Mariella exhaled, "Then… What do you want to do?"

With that, Guy's smile began to flicker back into life as he reached for Mariella's hand, taking it, stroking it, kissing it briefly, and sighing before letting it go again. "I want what spectators are preventing me from doing," he answered in a low voice, even though there was no one within even ten feet of them, "It is absolutely wretched that even that small amount of contact I just risked could ruin us. You have no idea how horrible it is to know that I can't touch you without fear of compromising our situation."

"I have no idea, do I?" Mariella returned, "It takes two halves to make a whole, Guy of Gisborne, Lord of Locksley."

"But we are two very different halves, are we not?" Guy pointed out, "A sword and a sheath may complete each other but that does not make them the same."

Mariella smiled at this. "I suppose you are right," Mariella laughed, "We each have our differences, our own roles to play, and our own ways of playing them as well."

She decided to not to mention that she could not play as well as Guy did. She was not as brave as he. He wasn't scared to want like she was. In fact, Mariella was scared to even think of him too fondly in case her features would betray her exact thoughts. It was impossible for her to want as Guy did because she could not allow herself to do so. This she did not tell him for she knew that she definitely wanted, just not in the way she wanted to want, in the way that Guy wanted.

She dared not even dream of wanting. What the world, including Guy, failed to realize was that her future was far less controllable than it appeared. If futures were tangible, Mariella's would be smoke. It was a collection puffs of possibilities that engulfed her, and because she could not differentiate one from another, they suffocated and blinded her. She could want something for her future. She could reach for it. She could even try to grasp it, but ultimately the she had little to no influence over it so long as she was a woman under her guardian's control. All aspects of her life were in his hands. That was why she protected this particular secret so cautiously. If he so much as caught a glimpse of this part of her life it would go up in smoke and no longer be hers. He would take it from her in the blink of an eye.

So she would hold on to it for dear life, like a single breath of air being held in a room full of smoky possibilities that will only go away when all possibilities are decided and cleared away to allow her to breathe and see clearly. This was the only thing that she had a hold on. Powerless, she could only wait in a smoky room with only the Sheriff and Guy by her side to comfort her. Even if they were blind to her predicament, they stood by her side waiting for the smoke they couldn't see to clear. What scared her the most, however, was not her lack of air, help, or power over herself. What scared her the most was that she didn't know what would be waiting for her when the smoke cleared… and what would be gone.

But for now, she would sneak whatever breaths that she could catch of Gisborne. She felt that he was the only one she could breathe freely with, the only one who she didn't have to be on her guard with, the only one she could show her true self to. With this thought Mariella finally realized why it was that Guy appealed to her when so few before him had. With him she wore no masks, bore no chains, breathed as freely as was possible. With him she was actually happy. With him she was free to follow her own breathing pattern and not rely on someone else's permission to do so.

That was when a smile Guy had never seen before came onto Mariella's face. It wasn't the biggest he had ever seen nor was it the brightest, but it was by far the most beautiful and elating expression that he would never forget.

It was the moment that Mariella's heart melted over and returned to life after years of voluntary isolation. For the first time in a long time she felt as if someone cared about her.

Not being able to do much more, Mariella put herself at Guy's side and put her arm into his, giving his arm a tight and affectionate squeeze before letting him lead her forward into the crowd, both of them turning their smiling expressions into ones of sobriety and boredom even though that was far from what both were feeling. But it was what was necessary. If they were to keep their secret, they would have to hold in their happiness like a breath, only letting it go when the coast was clear.


	27. A Peek Into Her Past

** Chapter Twenty-Seven: A Peek Into Her Past**

The couple wasn't able to go very far having both been physically impaired by their wounds. So after quickly realizing that strolling would not be a suitable pastime, they decided to settle near the perimeter of a small collection of people who were also resting in their separate groups. Amongst the crowds were people who laughed merrily, played music and sang with volume and pitchiness that only wine could encourage. Some lounged about, conversed in soft whispers, and snuck lusty glances at those around them. Some even moped by their lonesome, cursing their ill fortune in the matters of love. Mariella and Guy of Gisborne did none of these. Instead they sat in silence next to each other, racking their minds over something they can enjoy together that wouldn't draw suspicion.

Mariella was the first to give up, finally resorting to picking at the clovers that grew amongst the grass and beginning to weave them into a chain. "Until now, I've usually spent May within the confines of whatever castle I occupied at the time," she admitted in a quiet voice, "Or at least away from the crowds. My mother took my siblings and me to the local festival once when we were children. The crowds were just of a spectacle to me as anything else there. Seeing people's behavior so greatly altered to such an extent confused me. The colors astounded me. But somehow I still didn't feel as if it was in the proper spirit of springtime." Guy watched Mariella as she spoke, not her working hands but her daze-like expression as her fingers twisted and twined the flowers with ease. "My mother then took us to the forest that bordered the castle and we gathered flowers all morning. By lunchtime we had collected quite a bounty. She had packed a picnic. As we ate she would tell us about the flowers we had found. Their names, their meanings, their uses. She was our teacher. The seasons were our classrooms." She lifted the finished product, cradling it in both hands. "She taught us how to use nature to better our lives and the lives of others, how to bring happiness and beauty into the world."

Guy said nothing, but gingerly lifted the flower garland from her hands to place it like a crown on her head. "Your mother taught you well," he told her, fighting the urge to touch her further, to caress her face or reach for her hand, "You certainly bring much beauty into this world."

Not only did Mariella sense this tension, she shared it. However, she was able to successfully rid herself of these feelings by converting them with a smile. An innocent and sweet smile that made Guy's heart skip a beat and switch emotions along with her, consequently making him smile in a similar way. "And you certainly make me feel happier than anyone else I know."

But the joy was short lived.

"Lady Mariella!" Mark called with a smile as he approached the duo and crouched behind and between the two. His smile diminished into a more composed, almost resentful expression when he turned to Guy. "Sir Gisborne," he greeted with a set jaw.

Guy gave no response to Mark other than the required minimum of a returned nod. He had noticed Mark's interest in Mariella from the very beginning and so he would show no courtesy to his rival.

"How are you faring, my lady?" Mark asked as he delicately reached for Mariella's bandaged hand, lifting it tenderly to his lips and giving it a kiss, "I hope your injuries are feeling better."

"They are, actually," Mariella answered as she politely withdrew her hand from Mark's, "Thank you."

"That's good to hear, my lady. Are you enjoying the celebrations?"

As Mariella was forming her answer, Guy began to contemptuously give his. "It's a little difficult to do that when-"

"When injuries prevent us from moving around too much," Mariella cut him off to prevent him from insulting Mark, "And you? How is May treating you thus far, Sir Mark?"

"Not too badly, actually," Mark replied as he looked around at his surroundings, "The activities are plentiful, the weather is beautiful, the women even more so." He chuckled to himself at this. "But, sadly to say no one thing or person has caught my undivided attention yet."

"Well, it is still early," Mariella reassured him.

"True," he nodded, "That said, I think I'll get back to wandering. Good day, my lady." With that he took her hand again and gave it a congenial kiss and without even in a glance in his direction he saluted her male companion as well as he made his escape. "Gisborne."

"Why don't you like him?" Mariella asked after he was gone, her smile seemed to diminish, but not disappear.

"He seems far too interested in you for my comfort," Guy answered as his eyes found Mark as he walked away into the crowd, "I don't like it."

"You have nothing to fear, Sir Guy," Mariella reminded him, "For my interest remains solely invested in you."

Any resentful thoughts of Mark vanished at that point. Guy's expression dropped only to rise again in a smile. As discreetly as he could Guy reached for Mariella's hand, giving it an affectionate squeeze. "I don't see how someone as good as you could ever have any interest in someone as wicked as me," he told her and then quickly drew his hand away before someone saw the contact, "but I'm glad you do."

"Wicked," Mariella chuckled, "Why on earth would you call yourself wicked?"

"My lady," Guy began, "I'm… not a good man."

But he noticed she suddenly wasn't paying attention anymore. Instead, her green eyes were wide with awe and focused on something in front of her. "My lady?" he asked as he followed her gaze in hopes of discovering what affected her so, "What's wrong?"

"Arianna," she whispered.

"Arianna?" he repeated with confusion, "Who is that?"

"Arianna!" Mariella called from across the way as she rose and left Guy in order to head across the clearing, calling the name as she went, "Arianna! Arianna!"

Guy slowly rose from his spot with a bit of difficulty due to his wounds. His eyes followed Mariella as she darted across the field, only slightly hindered by her own injuries. Finally a woman responded to the name but she was too far for Guy to see clearly. How Mariella had recognized her was a wonder to him. What he could see of her was almost like an experience of déjà vu that reminded him of the first time he had ever seen Mariella from a distance. This time was much different, however, for this woman had the bulge of child to differentiate between the two forms. Guy began to make his way towards the women, eventually noticing that there was also a man with them who this Lady Arianna linked arms with.

The closer he became, the more he began to realize this woman's connection with Mariella. It was so much so that by the time he was within earshot he was certain of his conjecture. Arianna's skin was much darker than Mariella's, the signature olive tone that Italians were famous for and her eyes a warm brown instead of green. The shape of her face was rounder, heart-shaped in fact, while Mariella's was of a smoother form. Yet he was sure of it.

"Sir Guy!" Mariella gasped as she saw him approaching, "Oh, dear! I'm so sorry I dashed off like that but you must understand! Richard, Arianna. This is Sir Guy of Gisborne, Lord of Locksley. Sir Guy, this is Sir Richard and Lady Arianna. Arianna is... my sister."


	28. Sisters Again

**Chapter Twenty-Eight: Sisters Again**

Guy was frozen with awe at hearing Mariella's announcement. "Your sister?" he repeated as he looked from Arianna to Mariella and back again. Then the shock quickly began to recede and was replaced an air of formality. "It is a pleasure to meet a family member of Lady Mariella's," he greeted as he gave a small bow.

"And it is a pleasure to meet an acquaintance of Mariella's," Arianna returned in an accent even thicker than that of her sister's and with a coy sideways glance at Mariella.

"Well, I'm just happy to see you both," Mariella interjected as she slipped her hands onto her sister's stomach, "And look at you! Pregnant! When are you due?"

"Not for another few months," Arianna replied.

"That soon?" Mariella gasped, "Should you be travelling in your condition?"

"I'm fine," Arianna smiled, "The women in our family have always been made strong and pregnancy has never hindered us much, so don't worry. We always protect our charges."

"Very well then," Mariella smiled as she let her hands fall, "I am just so glad to see you again."

At this point, Arianna's husband, Sir Richard, finally spoke, "Perhaps we gentlemen should leave you two ladies alone to catch up? What do you say, Lord Gisborne? Up for a stroll around the grounds?"

"Actually, Sir Guy is not well from yesterday's... excitement."

"I'm actually feeling much better, my lady," Guy assured Mariella as he cut her statement short, "I think I'm fine for a walk."

"I just don't want you to delay your healing or get worse," Mariella fretted as she tried to defend her statement.

"I'll be fine, my lady," Guy insisted, adding more stone to his voice, "I'm feeling stronger than you might think. I am perfectly capable of taking a walk."

There was only a moment of doubt in Mariella's eyes when she heard this, but it was quickly converted to worry that was coated with an uneasy layer of trust. "Very well then," she nodded and smiled a mischievous grin, "Then I don't suppose it would be a bad idea if Arianna and I also took a walk."

Guy opened his mouth to protest to this idea, knowing that Mariella too had been hurt. Mariella saw this reaction and waited with a cunning gleam in her eye for his words to come... but they never did. Instead Guy quickly closed his mouth and recovered himself.

"If you feel up to it," Guy managed.

"I do," Mariella answered with a pixie smile and then, turning to Arianna, she asked, "Shall we?"

"Let's," Arianna responded.

And the two sisters took their leave, arm in arm as if they'd never been separated.

"Mariella has become a lovely young woman," Sir Richard commented once the ladies were out of earshot, "I can already tell she's grown into the family characteristics."

"Family characteristics?" Guy repeated, "Which characteristics are those?"

"Women in their family are often very independent, very wise, and very cunning," Sir Richard explained as they began their stroll.

"Yes, I believe the Sheriff mentioned something about the women being independent healers," Guy commented, "A maternal family legacy, is it?"

"Very much so," Richard laughed, "A long line of powerful women."

Something about this fact struck Guy as concerning, but he couldn't quite configure what. "And what of the sons? Are they just the same?"

"It's hard to say," Richard sighed, "The only male relative by blood Arianna has mentioned is her brother. But he is very much like the rest of them. Clever as a fox, confident as a person can be, not quite so skilled in the art of medicine like his sisters, but what he lacks in the healer's touch he compensates for with the leadership society might expect in a young man. Then again, that might just be him. Still, it is the women you want to watch out for. They're not happy unless they're satisfied. Trust me, sir. You are certainly in for an adventure with Mariella."

"Well, I'm only her bodyguard," Guy brushed off, "It hardly matters to me whether or not she is happy." It was harder to say than he had expected it to be. He immediately regretted going as far as to express such an rank lie.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Sir Richard returned with an apologetic widening of his eyes, "I just thought... You two seem so..." He cut himself off with a chuckle. "I suppose May just encourages a certain kind of assumption. Forgive me."

"You're forgiven," Guy nodded, "It's an understandable mistake to make."

"But if I may be so bold as to inquire..." Sir Richard said with a slightly uncomfortable clearing of his throat, "Now, I don't mean to pry. I ask only in concern for my wife's sister, who has been much like a sister to me... I suppose what I'm trying to get at is... You say you and Mariella are entirely passive towards each other?"

"Entirely." Guy suddenly began to remember the injuries he'd endured and suddenly they proved to begin to show signs of discomfort.

"Right. Well, I suppose my question is... Why?"

The question was so simple yet it took Guy completely by surprise. "Why?" he repeated with apparent confusion and shock.

"Mariella is a beautiful girl," Sir Richard went on, "She is kind. She is caring. Men have sought after women who possessed far less and here you two are, thrown together, both of you available-"

"Stop," Guy interrupted, his tone as sharp and deadly as a knife as he cut Sir Richard off, "Just... stop. Lady Mariella and I have nothing together. I was ordered by the Sheriff to assure her safety. It is out of duty that I protect her. That is all. Duty. She is my _charge_." Guy listened to the words that left his lips and for an instant he almost allowed himself to believe them. Almost. But it was a passing spirit, a faded memory of what he once was.

"Again. I'm sorry. Pardon me, sir," Sir Richard implored, "It's not my place."

"No," Guy growled, "No, it's not." Guy paused and resisted the urge not wince at his wounds. "Excuse me. I think I should return to Lady Mariella. I am still on duty, after all." Then with an added air of regard, he threw in a bow and said, "Good day, sir."

Then he went off to search for his charge.

"Tell me how you've been, sister," Arianna asked as they walked through the grounds, "Your letters have been fewer and fewer lately. How do you feel now that you are a free woman?"

"Well, the change of location has taken a toll," Mariella explained, "I haven't been able to find means to send word to you."

"But you are happy here, aren't you?" The critical expression on Arianna's face raised a slight suspicion in Mariella as to what her sister was referring.

"Yes," Mariella smiled, "Yes, of course. Uncle Vasey treats me kindly. He makes sure I am taken care of. I am in want of nothing because of his care."

"And what of Sir Guy's care?" Arianna prodded, "Is he contributing at all to your happiness?"

"Arianna!"

"What?" she asked with a coy tone, "As your sister I am entitled to at least inquire about any romance in your life."

"He's my guard," Mariella insisted as she fought back a blush, "The Sheriff assigned him to me for my own protection." Then, for an added measure of security she slid in some cushion to her reassurances by channeling her past feelings for him. "He... can actually be sort of scary at times. I've only been able to start talking to him recently."

"I can understand that," Arianna laughed, "He doesn't seem to be the friendliest of people."

"Not that I've noticed," Mariella said. A pause ensued during which a single thought fluttered into Mariella's head: "What are you doing here, Arianna?"

"Richard was invited by his cousin, who is currently staying with the Sheriff. We hadn't been to England in a while so we thought it would be a nice idea."

A shadow seemed to pass over Arianna. "We had no idea that you would be here... Why are you here? Who are you here with?"

"Sir Guy." It seemed a strange question for Arianna to have asked, but when Mariella saw Arianna's expression screw up with some form of confusion to the response, she quickly understood that she had been asking who her escort was. Mariella was compelled to hastily add, "And Uncle Vasey, of course. I am accompanied by no one save for them. Uncle is quite careful of me when it comes to men."

"As he should be," Arianna affirmed, "The world of men is a dangerous place. Women have so little power in it."

"That's not true," Mariella protested, stopping in her tracks as the injuries beneath her bandages began to plague her, "I belong to no man and I am still able to decide for myself what I will do and where I will go, with whom I will hold my company and when."

"You may think that, Mariella, but it is not true," stated Arianna, "You have choice only because the Sheriff allows you it, but he can take it away just as easily."

"Arianna, do not spit such poison at the Sheriff. Have you forgotten all that he did for us?"

"Yes, I remember," Arianna scoffed, "In Italy he would come and go. Bring us gifts when the one thing Mother wanted was to go with him, here, to England. He provided everything but that whenever he came. I remember that. I remember how the visits became fewer and farther apart until they stopped altogether. I remember when Mother found other means to come here and how he knew of our plight and did nothing. Not a pound, not a shilling did he send. Not even a letter. I remember how Mother waited for word from him and it never came."

"Stop it," Mariella cut, "You don't know his reasons. You don't know-"

"And neither do you, Mariella!" The statement burnt like acid. Arianna regretted it the moment it came out. "I'm sorry, but... You know I love you and I want you to know this is coming from the best of places... You just don't understand. You've spent so long out of the public's eye. Things will change."

The pain began to drain away from Mariella's body and beneath Mariella rediscovered her composure and remembered that despite everything that Arianna was saying, Mariella loved her sister too. "No, Arianna," she said with a recovered calm, "Things have already changed. I've adapted. I've changed... but I'm still the same Mariella. I'm still your little sister."

A small smile appeared on Arianna's face, even though the pain of conflict lingered in her eyes. "I know," she said as she took Mariella's hands, "I just want you to be careful. I don't want you to get hurt." Arianna reached out her hand to smooth over Mariella's hair. "You are my little sister."

"Lady Mariella," a new voice interrupted. Both women turned to see that the newcomer was Guy of Gisborne.

"Guy?" Mariella wasn't sure if she was more confused, surprised, or pleased to see Guy back so soon, "Where's Richard?"

"I thought it was time that we returned to the Sheriff," he began, "Sir Richard and I decided to part ways."

"I'd... better go find him," Arianna commented, "He's probably with his cousin."

"Do you want help looking?" Mariella offered.

"No, I'll be fine," she assured her sister, "You two should be going."

"Stop by the castle later," Mariella insisted, "We would love to have you for dinner."

"That's very kind, Lady Mariella," Arianna smiled, "We will stop by later."

"I look forward to it, Lady Arianna," was the response. The ladies exchanged mock curtsies then embraced.

"_Enjoy the fair_," Arianna bode in her native tongue then with a side glance at Guy she added, "_But not too much._"

"_Stop worrying_," Mariella smiled, "_I'll be fine. You have nothing to worry about._"

"It was a pleasure to meet you, Sir Guy," Arianna said as she gave a sincere curtsy, "I trust you will take care of my sister."

"I will," Guy promised as he managed to bow as well as his impairment allowed him to, "And I am glad to have met you as well, my lady."

"Good day to both of you," Arianna finished before going.

Both Guy's and Mariella's gazes followed Arianna and without looking away Guy offered his arm to the lady at his side, who took it without a second and thought. They finally turned away and started their search for the Sheriff.


	29. Delve

**Chapter Thirty: Delve**

"Dante has grown into a fine man, hasn't he?" Vasey said once the trio was alone again, "I remember when he used to be such a gawky, lanky boy... and now look at him. Shot right up and is taking on some of the best wrestlers in the region."

"Yes, very impressive," Mariella replied without enthusiasm.

"Well, I'm going to go for a stretch," Vasey sighed as he stood, "Care to join me, dear?"

"No, thank you, my lord," Mariella denied as she slapped on a smile, "I think I need a little more rest. I wouldn't want to overwork my injuries."

"You both are using that one a lot, aren't you?" the Sheriff remarked, "Have it your way. I'll be right back."

And so Mariella and Guy were left alone again and Mariella had the chance to inquire about something Lord Dante had mentioned.

That man was a stranger to her world and yet he already seemed to know more about its components than she did. Dante was already so familiar with

the men in her life and even seemed to know their past better. And so she managed to blurt out her question.

"Why did you go to France?" Mariella asked suddenly and without thinking.

The inquiry seemed to bother Guy no later than it was asked. His expression told Mariella that it was most likely a topic she should not have ventured.

"I will only say that I had no other choice," Guy told her with a darkness Mariella had never heard in his voice, "It is a story for another day. I don't want to talk about it."

A pang of regret pumped out of Mariella's heart and into the rest of her body, making her feel heavier and lighter all at the same time. "I'm sorry," she said softly and sincerely, "I didn't know… It's just that Lord Dante—"

"I don't want to discuss Dante either," Guy stopped her. She could tell he was trying to keep his tone soft, but the sharp steel in it was still present in it; covered, yes, but present.

"Why don't you like him?" Mariella interrogated with a hint of agitation, "He seems kind enough."

"I told you I don't want to talk about it," Guy growled.

"Well, I do," Mariella pressed as she stood, crossed the platform, and took the empty seat next to him, "You don't like Sir Dante. You don't like Sir Mark. Is there anyone you do like?"

Then the Sheriff made his swift return with sounds of complaints and rues. "That was certainly boring," he groaned, "I don't know how you young folk do it. Just walking around and looking at all the people dressed in pretty colors. It's maddening!"

"Actually, I was just considering to fetch myself a cup of water," Mariella announced as she stood. She could barely stand to be with Guy at that point, he was being so difficult. "I'll be right back."

"I'll go with you," Gisborne added, "You'd be amazed at the number of incidents that can occur at these sprees."

There was no way that Mariella could quickly think of a way to politely object to this and so she allowed him to accompany her. However, she had no intention of conversing at this point. She took his arm when offered but other than that she refused him any other nicety.

"Oh, now you two feel up for a walk," Vasey grumbled after the two as Mariella and Guy made their way, "I'm starting to think you two are only playing that card when it best suits you!"

Guy took a moment to begin. "Sir Dante and I have a mutual distaste for each other," Guy sighed with exasperation when he finally spoke, "It developed when we were young and was never resolved. And Sir Mark..." He stopped for a moment in speech and in pace and sighed again, reaching for her bandaged hand and inconspicuously caressing it. Then he continued, his voice lower and his speaking slower, "My aversion to Sir Mark was partly jealousy at first, but now I feel that... There's something I just don't like about him. It's as if he's..." Within the next pause he took, he seemed to abandon his endeavor to defend himself. "Forget it."

"No," Mariella said gently as her discomposure cooled, "Tell me. It's all right."

Guy sent his gaze out into the passing crowd as if he would discover the nerve to speak amongst the spectators and the games. But then he turned back to Mariella. With one glance into her trusting eyes and he suddenly felt she needed to know. "It's as if..." he began again, "I feel as if he's the one against me."

Images of Mark's secrets ran briefly through Mariella's mind. As she recalled his loyalties and who he called his enemies, she was keenly aware of the weight his secret enforced upon her. Still she forced comfort from her lips: "Guy... He is a good man, a kind man. He has given you no reason to suspect him. You must lay your suspicions of him to rest. Once you do I'm sure you'll find him an agreeable man."

"Agreeable?" Guy repeated, "Mariella, you think that everyone is agreeable. There is not a soul on this earth or in heaven or hell whom you detest."

"And what's wrong with that?" Mariella asked with a smile, "What is wrong with being friendly, with giving people a chance?"

"You don't understand," Guy nearly exclaimed, but he caught himself before he allowed his temper to flare. He took a moment, took a breath, and started again. "You are so innocent, Mariella. You are so pure, and gentle, and good. Everything that is wonderful in this world is all that is in you. In fact, it's difficult to believe that you could ever really consider me, the horrible being that I am. I'm even starting to fear that you couldn't possibly be real. But there is a problem in that, Mariella." He tread carefully at this point as he saw her brows knit together. "You are warm to all who extend a welcoming hand, but you fail to consider that any of these tricks could be a fatal snare."

"Are you trying to say that I should suspect everyone who is nice to me of duplicity?" Mariella questioned.

Now he was beginning to toe the line. He had wandered into treacherous territory. "No. I'm just saying that you need to realize that there is the possibility that some people who may act kind may in fact not be."

"Oh, I'm beginning to understand that perfectly," Mariella fumed, "My own uncle, who was more like a father to me than any man I have ever known, has basically turned his back on me... and I've accepted that. That does not mean I shall start to distrust every person I meet. For God's sake! You say that there is not a soul whom I detest. Is there a soul on whom you trust?"

Guy couldn't respond at first. Instead he could only stare at her, searching her face for clues as to what he could say to sooth her spirits. But he didn't find the words. Alternatively, he grabbed Mariella by the hand and carefully made his way over to a nearby, unoccupied tent. He turned to face her so that they were square with each other, he took hold of her arms and pulled her into a very unexpected and very firm kiss. Suddenly Mariella's anger was suddenly vanished and was replaced with surprise, which eased as she was reminded of the reasons she had chosen Guy, of his characteristics that she had grown so attached to.

Then, almost as quickly as he had pressed forward Guy pulled back again and stepped away, fearful that someone might spy their sinful encounter. "I trust you," he confessed with a pain in his eyes that reminded Mariella more of heartbreak than of unlimited devotion, "You are the only thing that is keeping me human, the only thing that has given me hope, and the only woman I could ever allow myself to care for. When I'm with you I realize that the man I am is far from the man I want to be."

"And what sort of man do you want to be?"

"A good man."

"Guy," Mariella chuckled lightly as she affectionately placed a hand on his cheek, "You are a good man."

"No," he argued as he removed her hand and took a step away from her, "I'm not. The person I am when I'm with you is not who I am."

"Well, I don't know this other Guy," Mariella smiled, "but I like this one. And you like this one. I don't understand why you can't be this Guy all the time."

"It's not so simple," he said as he weaved her arm into his and lead her back into the open, "I can't change who I am."

"You don't have to," Mariella commented. She was now having difficulty maintaining her cheerful facade. "Have you ever considered that maybe this is who you are and that this bad man is the one who isn't you?"

With the comment came no response. Guy remained mute for the next few minutes until he finally led her back to the Sheriff, allowing her to take her seat, and then taking his leave of both the Sheriff and Mariella, with a moderate bow and a brief valediction.

"What a festival," Vasey sighed, but Mariella couldn't tell if it was with relief, exasperation, boredom, or euphoria. However, it didn't matter for long for the Sheriff quickly changed the subject, "It seems like I've seen very little of you for the past couple of days, Mariella. Are you enjoying yourself?"

Out in the arena a man gave of a battle cry as he charged his opponent.

"Yes," Mariella answered as she plastered on yet another smile, "I never knew they could be so entertaining. So much to do."

A counter was made and an attack was avoided.

"What have you done so far?" Vasey asked, curious as to what she found so entertaining.

Another attempt to harm the opponent was made.

"Well, I've danced," she reported, "And I've watched games such as these. Besides that most of it has been spent strolling about. It is still early in the festivities, after all."

The attack was met this time with a reversal, canceling the turn.

"So it is," Vasey nodded, "Have you made any acquaintances?"

"Not as of yet. Only Sir Dante of Cravesburry, it seems."

"Shame. I shall be sure to introduce you to a few people at the party tonight. Hopefully there will be no more party-crashers. Are you aware that one of our own staff had thrown in her lot with those vagabonds?"

Mariella stifled any sign of distress. "No, my lord," she lied, "I was unaware. Who was it?"

"Some servant girl. She was caught stealing from a few of my guests. Loralei I think her name was."

"Laura?" Mariella inquired so as to set the record straight.

"Ah, yes. That was it. Laura."

"I know her quite well," Mariella grieved, "She is my friend, sir."

"Be that as it may, Mariella, she is still a nasty little thief," Vasey retorted, "She will be treated as a nasty, little thief and she will die as a nasty, little thief."

"Die?" Mariella pronounced, the word scaring her beyond all else.

"Yes. She is scheduled to die in two days' time. I would have it sooner, but I thought that would have killed the fun a little too soon."

"Please, sir," Mariella implored, "I beg you to reconsider. Her crime is not of a serious nature and if I am not mistaken this is the first of her offences."

"No, Mariella, this will be dealt with properly," the Sheriff insisted, "With a quick drop and a tug."

"Please, sir have mercy-"

"Mercy does not discourage crime and neither does it punish it," Vasey growled, "If I were to show lenience to all of those who broke the law then I would be eliminating the fear of punishment. Without that fear there would be no order and everything would turn to anarchy."

"But sir-"

"Not another word on the subject, my dear," Vasey insisted, "My word is final and I say she will be hanged."

At that Mariella was finally silenced and said not another word on the subject for the rest of the day. Instead she was thrown into a state of worry, of self-contemplation, of self-enlightenment. She was forced to consider the amount of time she had known of Laura's detainment and then to account for the amount of time she'd spent thinking about her. In the past three days she had maybe only thought about her troubled friend in the first day she'd been told of her capture. The rest of her hours were spent thinking about Guy or consumed in her own petty life. What had become of her? In weeks past she would have sacrificed anything for an innocent. She at one point had been ready to betray the closest thing she had to family in order to protect the weak and down-trod and here she was, a weakened creature only concerned with the trifles of her own life. It was a side to her that she would have to remedy. She swore at that moment that she would recommit herself to the needy. She would help those that suffer at her uncle's hand and she would bestow justice wherever need be.


	30. My Sister, My Confidant

**Chapter Thirty-One: My Sister, My Confidant**

The sun had just set in the surrounding Sherwood Forest but lights within Nottingham Castle shone as bright as a beacon to which guests continued to flock. The Great Hall swarmed with gaudy bodies, warm and blithe with festivity as they ate and drank and stepped to tunes too lively for any other month but May. All took part in this merrymaking, this gallivanting, this vivacious romp. Not even the hospitable Sheriff of the castle could help but smile in the company of old friends and good wine.

But despite all this frivolity, there was one who was yet immune. Mariella couldn't bring herself to enjoy these strangers as she might have had it been any other day. A strange sadness suppressed her, not for an absence of Gisborne, all though she had not seen him since his leave of the festival, but for an absence of Laura whom she could not cease thinking of as rotting away in the dungeon. No smile nor compliment nor kindly jest could lift her spirits.

So much distress was hidden behind this night's carefully crafted mask. She smiled, yes, but she did not revel for behind her short answers and humble silences dwelled a festering sorrow. With each passing moment Laura was that much closer to the gallows. Eventually she could no longer stand the act.

"Excuse me, my lord," she spoke once able, "It is getting a little warm in here. I think I'll go out for some air."

"Yes, dear," Vasey nodded, lending his attention long enough to respond to his niece, "Just be sure to stay in sight of the guards."

With that she disappeared without another word through the blob of bodies.

While Mariella was nudging her way through this crowd of unrecognizable grins, she happened to spy a most dear one. Immediately she changed routes and headed towards it.

"Arianna!" she greeted as she wrapped her arms around her sister, the first genuine smile of the night finally making an appearance, "I was wondering if I would see you here at all tonight."

"I wouldn't miss this for the world, dear sister," Arianna replied as she returned the embrace.

After pulling away Mariella realized how relieved she felt with her sister near. "I'm so glad you came," Mariella confessed, "Is Richard here?"

"No. He and a few old friends wanted to have a quiet dinner at a nearby manor. I decided not to go so I could come see you and Vasey."

"Well, I appreciate that greatly. I was just going out for some air. Care to join me?"

"Oh God, yes," Arianna returned eagerly, "Of course."

Both women turned towards the door, easing their way through the remainder of the crowd, pushing out towards the doors. The open space of the courtyard was a welcomed change of scenery.

A great sigh of relief came bursting from Arianna upon receiving the cool kiss of the night air. "I don't know about you, but it was getting far too warm in that room for my comfort," Arianna laughed as she placed a hand on her swollen belly, gently petting it as she drank in the night scenery with her eyes, "The Sheriff certainly has a lot of friends!"

"Yes," Mariella smiled weakly, "Surprising, isn't it?"

Something about the tone of Mariella's voice piqued her sister's concern. "_Are you all right, sister?_" Arianna inquired, "_You seem… sad._"

"_I'm fine_," Mariella lied, letting go a subtle snicker so as to not overplay the sense of ease she was trying to feign, "_What makes you think I'm sad?_"

"_You can't fool me, baby sister,_" Arianna smirked knowingly, "_Try again._"

Mariella searched her sister's face, contemplating actually confiding her secrets to Arianna. After only moments of thought Mariella broke her eyes away and cast down her gaze to the ground. "_It's complicated._"

"_You'll tell me when you're ready,_" Arianna accepted with a somber sigh as she turned her attention to the small expanse of the courtyard.

Minutes went and neither of them said a word. Mariella stood anxiously against a nearby archway while Arianna stood a couple feet away, as calm and patient as Mariella had always known her.

At last Arianna turned to Mariella and formed a smile so much like that of their mother it lifted her spirits and broke them down at the same time. "Why don't you give me a tour of your new home, sister?" Arianna suggested, "I would love to see it."

"Of course, sister," Mariella nodded, not even attempting to pretend she was anything more than downhearted. She offered her arm in a caring manner and managed to lift her head a little higher than before.

* * *

By the time they were finishing the tour, Mariella had found it somewhere in her heart to manage laughter. "I'm not making this up!" Mariella professed as she and her sister laughed together, "He almost literally through me on and sent the horse off at a full gallop! I have no idea how I stayed on!"

"It sounds like the Sheriff needs to rethink his choice of your protection," Arianna giggled as they approached the Great Hall once again.

"Oh, no," Mariella gently dismissed, "Guy is a good man. A little… excessive, maybe, but a good man. I trust him utterly."

Then, faster than the extinguishing of a candle's light, Arianna's merry mood vanished. "Utterly?" she repeated, her face construed with disbelief.

The slip of her words suddenly dawned on Mariella. A noticeable blush started to run into her cheeks and Arianna took no time in waiting to interrogate further.

"_There is only one kind of man I have ever seen you trust utterly, Mariella,_" she began, "_and Guy is nothing like Vasey so I am forced to question your investment. Something tells me he has not earned this privilege from character alone._"

"_What are you implying, sister?_" Mariella was unsure whether to be scared or insulted.

Arianna didn't respond right away. Instead, she paused, let go of her previous thoughts, and returned to being the sibling Mariella had missed. Lovingly she took Mariella's hand, stroking it with utmost care.

"Be careful, baby sister," Arianna beseeched, "_You have been through so much and still so little. Be wary of the ways of men, Mariella. I'm sure you know by now the tricks they can play._"

Mariella was speechless. She knew the truth in Arianna's words and felt the warning take hold of her. As she searched through her feelings the only reply she could muster was, "_Yes, sister._"

Arianna smiled and gave back Mariella's hand. "Come, Mariella," she urged, "I think we've been away from the party for long enough now."


	31. Oh, Brother!

**Chapter Thirty-Two: Oh, Brother!**

When the sisters returned to the table at which Vasey sat, Mariella was shocked to see that Guy had taken a seat next to the Sheriff. She did her best to restrain herself from feeling too anxious.

"Arianna?" Vasey exclaimed, standing upon seeing the pregnant woman approach with her sister, "This is certainly a surprise! Did your husband do that to you?"

"Yes, Uncle Vasey," laughed Arianna as she went to hug him, "That's usually how it works."

The Sheriff resisted the urge to correct her as he returned the embrace and then pulled away. "Sit, sit, my dear," he invited, "It's been a while since I've seen you." Arianna took the other seat next to Vasey as Mariella took the seat next to her. Suddenly there was a grand commotion of music and drums from outside the Hall. All other noise stopped as every head turned in the direction of the interruption. A flurry of people dressed in bright colors and bizarre patterns came stampeding through the door with cries of: "Bring in the clowns! Bring in the clowns! Bring in the clowns!"

When the full company had entered the tumblers started off doing wild tricks, the featured fool doing a handspring and landing in front of the main table with the announcement, "The clowns are here!"

Vasey sat with pursed lips and the moment he had the opportunity he called out for the guards. "Guards!" he shouted, "Take these men away!"

"Wait, wait!" the fool cried, "Let us do one act and if you don't like us we'll leave willingly."

"Oh, please, Uncle Vasey?" Arianna whispered, "This looks promising!"

He considered it for a moment and then consented with a nod of his head.

"Thank you," the Fool bowed, a smile appearing on his painted face as he took the center of the floor. "Every man is a fool in his own way," he began, "For example, I am a fool because I can do this…" With that he fell to the side and caught himself so that he stood on one hand. "… but there are many things that can make a fool out of men." He let himself collapse into a sitting position, cross-legged and pensive. "They have often been driven to madness by their own devices." At this point he stood and approached the table, placing his hands on it and leaning his weight onto it, staring right at Guy. "The most powerful force that strikes the smart man dumb is also the most dangerous." He let his gaze wander to the rest of the crowd. "Love has afflicted more people than any other disease… but I think we all know that there are some people in this world, some very higher up people, who cannot use this as an excuse, heartless wretches as they are. They must look for other excuses for their foolishness, such as… greed. But this does not explain why there are certain outlaws still at large." Vasey tensed and his mouth screwed up in his own form of patience. "Robin Hood, for example, has escaped capture time after time after time from this very man. Was it stupidity on the Sheriff's part? I don't think so." Vasey relaxed a little, but was still wary of the upcoming punch line. "It was luck on Robin Hood's part, I think. Every man is born with a certain amount of luck and this outlaw, well, his certainly must be wearing thin. In fact, we have a psychic with us that has predicted it! Isn't that right?"

"Robin Hood will be caught!" one of the troupe announced.

"When?"

"In time!"

"In what time?"

"In the proper time!"

The Fool turned to his fellow performer and assumed a stance of exasperation and then back towards the audience. "My apologies, ladies and gentlemen. Our psychic is also our juggler." Laughter rippled through the audience. "And I am sure that you are all sick and tired of hearing me ramble on, so let's get to the good stuff. Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you the Tumbling Trio!" With that the music started up again and three clowns took the floor, performing flips, turns, and stumbles that left the audience in stitches. Even the rare sound of the Sheriff's laughter was audible that night.

At the end of the show, the performers were invited to stay for the rest of the party. "That young man…" Mariella said as she leaned over to Arianna, referring to the main fool, "Does he look familiar?"

"I know exactly what you mean," her sister responded, "You don't think it's actually him, do you?"

Mariella got up and wordlessly left the table, heading into the crowd in search of the clown. Guy noticed this and followed her path with his eyes. When he saw her find that performer, say a few words, wrap her arms around him enthusiastically, and then shove him his interest was sparked.

Little did he know what this man was to Mariella.

"Why are you here?" Mariella demanded, "Is this what you've been doing all these years? Five years, Antonio. Five years! No word from you."

"Yes, I know, I know," Antonio stopped her, "But as the years went by it became harder and harder to reach you. Believe me, I wanted to send word to you that I was okay, but I couldn't. I couldn't find you. You'd moved somewhere else I and I had no way of knowing where."

"Where have you been?" Mariella asked, calmer than before.

"I've been all around," he admitted, "Earning enough to get by here and there."

"Why are you here?" she asked again.

"We heard there was a big party," he answered, "A good place to make some money."

"And the fact that it was Uncle Vasey's party meant nothing, did it?" Mariella asked suspiciously.

"Vasey's party?" he repeated with a bit of surprise, "Is it? I had no idea."

"Don't give me that, Antonio," Mariella growled, "First Arianna travels such a great distance to come here, then you just happen to show up? Both of you, what are you doing here?"

"The truth?" Antonio asked, "I heard the Sheriff had a new ward and, well, I had to come and see if it was my sister. Maybe Arianna had heard the same?"

Suddenly a small sound, like the tinkling of bells sounded. "Papa!" a small voice cried as a small girl dressed in simple clothing ran up to Antonio with excited brown eyes, "Papa! There's so much food here! May I have some?"

Mariella stood in silent shock as Antonio crouched down and talked to the girl. "Yes, sweetie, but not too much. Go find Uncle John. He will help you get a plate."

"Okay, Papa," the girl said as she dashed away after giving him a quick kiss, golden curls bouncing as she disappeared through the sea of people.

"Papa?" Mariella could barely breathe.

"Yeah…" Antonio sighed as he ran a hand through his brown locks, "Maria. She's… my daughter."

"How… When… Antonio, you're a father?!"

"Yeah," her brother confirmed, "She's four. Really smart. Really sweet. An angel."

"Where's her mother?"

"Her mother… passed." Antonio's voice grew quiet and somber.

"Oh… I'm sorry," Mariella apologized, a bit of silence filling the space between topics, "Arianna is here, you know… She's preganant."

"Oh, really?" Antonio smiled, "Where is she? I'd like to see her."

"Over at Vasey's table."

"Well, then shall we?"

"Of course!" Mariella nodded, "This way."


	32. Progression

**Chapter Thirty-Three: Progression**

"The clown is your brother?" Guy repeated once he and Mariella had the opportunity to talk.

"That's right," confirmed Mariella.

"So, after all these years of being alone you suddenly have both siblings back?"

"Right."

"That's… strange," Guy pointed out.

"That's what I thought, but apparently word of the Sheriff of Nottingham taking in a new ward travels strangely far."

"Where did your brother say he's been the last few years?"

"Doing this," Mariella answered, "Travelling with a group of acrobats, musicians, and clowns."

"And your sister?"

"Richard and she moved to Italy a few years ago," Mariella explained, "I've sent her a letter here and there but besides that I've had very little contact with her. She says that they've been receiving news from Richard's cousin."

"Who is his cousin?"

"Neither of them said."

"Hm…" Guy responded simply, "Interesting. Do you think the Sheriff knows who it could be?"

"I… don't know," Mariella answered as she tried to decipher what Guy could possibly be thinking, "Why?"

Guy considered whether or not to reply before he did. "Nothing," he said, "Just curious."

"You don't suspect anything, do you?" Mariella interrogated demandingly.

"I never said that."

"But do you?"

"Mariella…"

"Do you?"

"I have to be, Mariella," Guy told her, "Plottings are not uncommon and they are nothing to trifle with. If I don't ask questions I could be putting the Sheriff's life in danger."

"I understand that he may not be the most likable man in England, but who would want to do him any harm?"

"People in power can't always please everyone," explained Guy, "Those that are unhappy blame him and think that everything will be righted once he's removed. Plus he's also the man that has to carry out justice around here which might upset a few people whose friends and relatives have been punished under his rule. Like that thief in the dungeon… She's associated with those outlaws that attacked us the other day. I'm sure she has plenty of outlaw friends who might try something. That's why we've doubled the guard lately."

"Have you?" Mariella was surprised. "There don't seem to be any more than usual."

"That's the point," Guy grinned slyly. "They're spread out amongst the normal amount that are stationed. Others make constant rounds, are in disguise, or just stay hidden. If the enemy doesn't know how many men we have, they can't plan appropriately."

"That's only if they're planning something, though," Mariella pointed out.

"Well, of course they're planning something, Mariella," Guy countered, "They won't stand idly by."

"Excuse me," a third voice interrupted them. It was Antonio. He'd taken off the face paint and even looked half presentable under orders from Vasey. The Sheriff had not been especially thrilled to see that the young man had grown into a clown rather than a man, but here he stood, more of a man than Mariella had ever seen him; broad shoulders, brown hair, and brown eyes with that tanned skin that all siblings but Mariella had. He smiled warmly and gave a small bow. "Can I steal my sister for a dance?"

"Of course," Mariella answered as she stood and made her way around the table. She turned to Guy. "I'll be right back," she told him as she went out to the dance floor with Antonio where they quickly fell into step.

"_So, you and the head of security?_" he asked, the usual smile replaced by a tight mouth, "_How long has that been going on?_"

"_Dear Lord,_" Mariella sighed with exasperation, "_Why does everyone think there's something between us? He's just my guard._"

"_And Lancelot was just Guinevere's loyal servant,_" Antonio responded, "_You might be able to fool the ignorant but when it comes to the instincts of more wary elders it's not so easy. Now tell me… Is there something going on between you two?_"

"_No,_" Mariella responded, disguising her anxiety of lying with a grunt of annoyance.

"_Good,_" Antonio said, "_Don't be fooled, sister. He's not a good man._"

_ "You don't even know him."_

"_I know his reputation,_" Antonio countered, refusing to relent on the matter, "_I've heard stories of what he's done—taking what he wants from those who are too weak to resist, killing those who try, imprisoning any man, woman, or child he chooses._"

"_Stories are not facts,_" Mariella fought, "_When I see him display any such behavior then I'll believe you._"

Antonio's eyes lost their ferocity and took on an edge of hurt. "_You don't believe me?_" he said softly, "_Mariella… I'm your brother._"

"_It's not that, Antonio,_" Mariella responded in a lowered voice, guilt introducing itself to her current feelings, "_I just… It's a little hard for me believe when I've spent so much time with him. As far as I can tell, he's a good man, despite a darker exterior._"

"Pardon," a surprise voice sounded. It was Lord Dante of Cravesburry. "May I cut in?"

Antonio looked from this newcomer to his sister and back again. Seeing that this new arrival was of no interest to his baby sister, Antonio deemed him as a suitable distraction from anyone who was. "By all means," he answered before telling Mariella, "_I think it's about time that we left. I'll see you around. Give my regards to Arianna._"

He left without another word, leaving Dante and Mariella alone. Dante gave a noble bow and greeted, "My lady."

Mariella curtsied in response. "My lord."

Dante and Mariella rejoined the dance, Dante's touch firm and confident, Mariella's withdrawn and repulsed.

"I hope you've been enjoying the festivities, my lady," Dante commented as he handled her with an intimacy that confused Mariella in the matter of how it made her feel. Suddenly she was reminded of Guy and could barely concentrate on the conversation at hand.

"Yes, I am," she tried, "The Sheriff certainly knows how to throw a party."

"To some degree, yes," Dante agreed, "but I would like for you to come to one of my parties some time. I think you would find them quite… enjoyable." The tone in his voice made Mariella want to cringe.

"The Sheriff doesn't like to travel much," Mariella expressed, "I'm not sure how keen he would be to take me so far as Cravesburry."

"I'm sure he wouldn't mind the journey." Dante's smile gave Mariella a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach and made her skin crawl. "We're good friends, he and I. And I think he would understand the need for you to meet a few new people."

Mariella wanted to argue, but she also didn't want to seem rude or disagreeable to this new acquaintance. "Sounds like fun."

"I'll say," Dante replied with a wink.

Then, as if sent to save her by God himself, Guy showed up. "Lady Mariella," he greeted, "I'm not so sure it is good to be dancing so much with your injuries. Perhaps you should take a rest?"

"Oh, quite right, Lord Gisborne," Mariella smiled, glad to stop, "I'm sorry, Lord Cravesburry, but I'm afraid my guard has a point. I shouldn't be dancing so much."

"I understand," Dante nodded, "Maybe we can find somewhere to talk instead?"

"The Lady Mariella is wanted back at the Sheriff's table, actually," Guy denied, "Perhaps another time."

"Or perhaps I'll join you," Dante insisted, "I haven't had the chance to see much of the Sheriff tonight. I think it's about time that I did."

"I'm actually quite tired," input Mariella once she found a place to speak up, "I think I'll go say good night to my sister and the Sheriff and be off to bed."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that," Dante commented as he scooped up her hand and bent down to kiss it, "It was a pleasure, my lady."

"Good night, Lord Cravesburry," Mariella said with her best attempt to keep a smile.

"Good night, my lady," Dante returned, "Gisborne."

Guy offered his arm to Mariella, which she took and left to the table without another word.

Mariella said good night to her sister and uncle and excused herself from the party.

"Mariella," Arianna called before she was able to get away, "Let's spend a little time together tomorrow, all three of us. I'm sure Antonio will be glad to see us again."

"That sounds… great," Mariella nodded, "I'll see you tomorrow."

* * *

Guy had been gracious enough to escort Mariella back to her room. They now walked the dark corridors, seemingly the first time they'd been truly alone all day.

"I think I might just be exhausted from all of this merry-making," Mariella laughed, breaking the silence that had accompanied them from the party, "How long do these May celebrations last?"

"Tomorrow is the last day of the official festival," Guy said curtly, "but a few may stay on as welcome guests, Sir Dante being one of them."

Mariella made no response at the mention of Dante's name, which slightly concerned Guy. "You're not interested in him, are you?" he asked, feeling that he needed to know.

"What?" Mariella laughed, "No, of course not."

"He seemed very interested in you…"

"The feeling was not mutual," she assured him, then stopped. "Guy," she said as she placed a hand on his cheek, "You have nothing to worry about."

"It's just the way he was dancing with you-"

"I was thinking about you the whole time I was with him."

"Really?" A small smirk appeared on his face. "What about me?"

"I was just thinking of the time that we danced together," she told him, "I remember how everything had felt so easy and right… and then I brought it to a halt when I saw that you were thinking the same."

"Yes, why was that?"

"I… guess I was afraid," she admitted as she looked away in thought, trying to remember the day, "I've never loved a man before nor been loved by one… I heard horrible stories and didn't want one of my own, but later, when you saved me… I couldn't help it. I just-"

Mariella's words were cut off when Guy stopped her lips with his, gently holding her chin to tilt her face up. At first, she was caught off-guard by this gesture but quickly recovered and reached up to replace her hand on his cheek, kissing him back with a rediscovered joy in her heart.

Guy kissed her slowly and sweetly and it inspired a flurry within Mariella's breast. How could she have ever thought that this wonderful feeling was something to be guarded against?

Guy snuck his arms around Mariella's waist and pulled her closer to him. Suddenly Mariella felt a change of pace in his mood, which took a strange toll on her own emotions. Mariella felt her heart begin to stir and her body felt like it wanted to quake. Tenderly she reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck, which made their bodies fit together pleasingly well. Guy must have noticed this too because only moments later he began to urge her steadily backwards until she felt her back meet the stone wall with a firm impact. From this position, Guy could take more assertive action, pressing against Mariella while simultaneously moving his hands to investigate her curves with a savor that made Mariella want to weep with longing. She wove her fingers into his raven black hair and hung on for dear life as the man became steadily more enthusiastic.

At this point Mariella couldn't even describe how she was feeling. Her breath was short and shallow as if she was frightened, but her heart raced with unparalleled eagerness. A strange sensation spread throughout her body that scared and excited Mariella as she lost herself to Guy's touch. She could feel the slight chill of Guy's strong and groping hands through the soft cotton that barred him from the increasing warmth her body emanated.

As Guy continued his slow and tantalizing exploration, he inspired within Mariella a torture she had never known before. She wanted him closer. She wanted to feel him with every inch of her body. She wanted the heat, the caress, the pleasure she had only heard about in cautionary tales. She was done with being safe and guarded. Enclosed in his arms, Mariella had never felt so free, so daring, so absolutely wild. The desire grew so strong and so fierce that Mariella had to release it with a soft and longing moan and slight yet suggestive parting of her legs, which only fed Guy's appetite further, causing him to increase his efforts as he migrated his lips down to her neck.

"Oh, Guy..." she sighed as she felt a strange tingling jolt throughout her body.

"Careful," Guy whispered as he grabbed her hips and pulled them to his, "We have to keep quiet."

This promised to be the most difficult task of all, especially now that she could feel her yearnings worsening as Guy positioned himself against her.

Then suddenly they heard a footfall around the corner. Quickly they separated and listened for the source. It was coming this way.

In a bit of a panic Guy grabbed Mariella's hand and led her away from the oncoming footsteps, down the hall and around the corner where they found privacy once again. Again they both listened. The footsteps faded away into silence. Assured of their regained seclusion, Guy looked down at Mariella, ready to pick up where they'd left off… until he saw the expression on her face.

"What's wrong?" he questioned, his brow knit with concern.

"That was… close," Mariella breathed as she stared down the way they had come, all excitement gone, leaving only fear.

"Are you all right?" Guy asked as he tried to look into her eyes, wondering if he had done the wrong thing.

"I'm fine," she replied, a little shaken by the experience, "It's just that… I've never done anything like that with a man before."

Judging by the shaky tone of her voice, Guy knew he had made a bad decision. He should have known that a woman as kind and pure as Mariella couldn't be so easily seduced and he cursed himself, monster that he was, for trying to force her into it. "I'm sorry," he told her, "I didn't mean to… If you weren't ready for that, I apologize. I didn't mean to rush you."

"It's fine," Mariella insisted as she began to regain some of her wits about her. She even managed a smile. "It was… nice."

Despite her words, Guy still felt as if she wasn't ready to jump back in, so he took a deep breath, counted to ten, and let go of any idea that anything else would happen that night. Instead, he took her into a reassuring embrace and kissed her head in attempts to comfort her.

When they pulled away, Mariella's smile was still weak, but she no longer seemed sad or frightened. "I should get to my room," she told him.

He nodded in understanding.

Very little was said after that. Upon reaching Mariella's door, Guy kissed her forehead and bade her good night. Mariella went to bed that night with a heart conflicted with the happiness Guy brought her and the sorrow of the secrecy that they were forced to endure.

As she dressed for bed, her mind wandered to a great many things. She thought of the Sheriff and her family, of her past and her future, but ultimately she found herself stuck on Laura.

There she lied in her bed after a careless round of kissing while Laura sat rotting in the dungeons. That guilt surpassed anything else she could have felt that night, so much so that she was still haunted by these thoughts when the sounds of the party had died down and all others were asleep. She was left alone with her thoughts as she contemplated what she could possibly do to save her friend.


	33. Rescue

**Author's Note:** I wanted to apologize for not getting this written sooner. School just started up again so I've been a tad busy getting back on my feet, not to mention a couple other factors that have interfered with writing. Well, I hope you enjoy this one and I'll get the next one up when I can manage.

* * *

The night was still and the corridors dark. The torches had already been extinguished and the castle slept still as a tomb. As Mariella silently traversed the halls, the only thing she could hear was the unsteady beating of her own heart. Every step was painfully slow for she could not risk the noise a more efficient pace might make. Her mission could not fail.

As time wore on, Mariella's progress remained insufficient and she soon realized that if she was to reach the dungeons she would have to hurry. Guards were surprisingly sparse, which made the sneaking a little easier but no less of a wonder to Mariella that she reached the dungeons undetected. However, her streak of luck ended there. Upon arriving on the stair of the lowest rooms of the castle, she heard voices at the end of her destination. She had to think of a plan and she had to think of it quickly.

"Guards!" she called as she came racing down the stairs. The men came to attention. There were only two. "I just saw a group of men sneaking around the halls! Hurry! They were just nearby!"

The two men exchanged glances and then rushed out, leaving Mariella surprised that it worked. When she came back to her senses she began looking around. She saw Laura looking out from her cell from her rescuer to a spot behind her. Mariella turned to see what she was looking at to see the prison keys on a hook. She rushed to get them and then went to free Laura.

"You have to get out of here," Laura whispered as Mariella tried the first key, "It's too easy. It's a silver platter."

Mariella tried the next key.

"Mariella!" she whispered harshly, "Never trust a silver platter!"

"You should listen to your friend, my dear," Vasey's voice sounded behind them. Mariella spun around to face him where he stood with four other guards.

"Uncle Vasey!" she gasped, "I…"

"I thought this might happen," Vasey sighed, "Take her away."

"Wait, what?" Mariella exclaimed as two guards stepped forward, each grabbing an arm, "Uncle Vasey! What are you doing?"

"Don't worry, sweet," he replied nonchalantly as he watched the men escort his ward out, "You're just being removed. It's only a punishment if you make it one."

Mariella was dragged to her room and locked inside. She wrestled with the handle, banged on the door with her fists, and yelled to be released. It was to no avail. In the end, she could only put her back to the door and slide down to the floor as she began to weep uncontrollably.

It wasn't long before she stopped herself, though. She knew that crying wouldn't get her out. Crying wouldn't save her. However, at this point she was so weary that she didn't have the strength to do anything but fall into a troubled sleep.

* * *

In the early morning, Mariella was woken by the nudge of her door opening. With a tired haste she got out of the way and stood to meet the intruder. It was Vasey, casually poking his head in. "You have ten minutes to make yourself decent and pack," he said, "A guard will be up to collect you then."

He was just about to leave when Mariella stopped him. "My lord!" she begged, "Please… I am sorry I had to go against you, but I couldn't just stand by and let my friend suffer."

"You have a peasant's sense of justice, my dear," Vasey replied, "You get that from your mother, I'm sure. That girl committed a crime and a brash one at that. Why should she go unpunished?"

Mariella considered this carefully. "She had good intentions."

Vasey rolled his eyes and entered the room fully. "Mariella, dear… If I were to kill an innocent man should I not be punished?" Mariella was afraid to answer, scared that she would fall into some sort of trap. "Your little friend robbed from people who had done no wrong. When I punish people it is because there has been a victim. I don't do it willy-nilly." Still Mariella said nothing. "Get dressed and get ready," he insisted once again, "You'll be leaving soon."

"Where am I going?" she asked.

"Somewhere safe," was all he would say before he left her again.

Then, true to his word, ten minutes later a guard was there to escort her downstairs to the carriage. She carried only one bag with her; it was the one she had brought travelled her to Nottingham when she had first come. She and it were loaded into the carriage with the door quickly closing and locking behind. In a matter of moments the carriage jolted to a start and made its way out of the courtyard and onto the road.

All of the window coverings were tightly fastened so Mariella could not them back to see where she was going, but judging by the mode of transportation, she was surely being taken far away from Nottingham.

Maybe half an hour later they came to a halt and the doors opened to let her out. Once the maiden's feet were on the ground a guard ushered her inside a wooden structure, going so quickly he nearly dragged her.

"Gentle, please!" she cried with a little frustration, already upset that she was being cast away to this place.

The guard paid no heed as he led her up a flight of stairs to the next floor, circling around the house's upper walkway, opening a door and nearly tossing her in. Again, the door was quickly shut and locked behind her. Regardless of the click she had heard she went to try the latch anyway. It would not so much as budge.

Slowly she turned to examine her new room. It was far simpler than the one at Nottingham. Only a bed to her left with a chest at its foot occupied the room. There were two windows; one at the same wall as the furniture and one that was set in the wall that was opposite the door.

Mariella set her things down on the bed and crossed over to the window, pulling back the shabby cloth that served as a curtain. Outside the sun was beginning to climb in the sky while the villagers below were already going about their daily routines. A woman carried a basket, a young man chopped wood in his family's yard, a little girl played with the bundle of rags that served as a baby doll.

The trivialness of the scene interested Mariella and reminded her of a life that she was beginning to miss. Still, this simple activity gave her no clue as to where she was. She was tempted to call out to someone below, but something about being in this unfamiliar place kept her from it.

The door's lock rattled open over Mariella's shoulder. Surprised, she whipped around to face the intruder. When she saw him she was shocked, but then moments later it made perfect sense.

He stepped through the doorway and closed it behind him. The two of them stood in place for a couple moments, staring at each other, until he finally took a couple of slow steps forward. "Welcome to Locksley," Guy greeted with an impersonal nod of the head.

In that moment, something came over Mariella. The joy of seeing Guy was so great that she couldn't stop herself when her feet carried her across the room, her arms wrapped themselves around him, and her lips journeyed up to meet fervently with his.

At first, Guy had been caught off guard, but he quickly recovered and placed a hand on Mariella's cheek, returning the gesture with equal enthusiasm.

"Guy," Mariella said in between kisses, "Why am I here?"

Simply thinking of the answer made Guy straighten up and pull away, taking on his more official demeanor. "The Sheriff thought it would be best if you were removed from the center of activity," Guy responded bluntly, "This is my land. No outlaw would dare come here while I'm around. You're safe and hidden here."

"But why here?" Mariella questioned as she tried to work it out in her head, "Why you?"

"The Sheriff trusts me," Guy answered as he took her hands into his, "He knows that I won't allow any mischief on my own land so he knows no one will get to you."

"But that's not the whole reason he moved me," Mariella stated, even though she knew that Guy must have already been aware, "He wanted me away from Nottingham. I was becoming a problem."

"You were endangering yourself," Guy pitched, "He doesn't want you getting involved in politics. He may not show it very much but he does care about you Mariella. He goes through extensive pains to see that you will not be harmed. His methods may seem a little… harsh, but he doesn't know any other way. He worries."

"Does he?" Mariella scoffed, "Because it seems that I've been nothing but a thorn in his side since I arrived. Always telling me what to do and what not to do and how I should behave and…" She cut herself off to take a breath. "It's frustrating."

"Well, if you don't believe that he cares for you, then at least believe that I do." Guy pulled Mariella to him and kissed her forehead. "Mariella… I don't know how I could be so lucky as to have a wonderful creature such as you delivered to my front door, but it also makes me very unlucky right now. I have to go."

"Where?" Mariella asked as she pulled him in to a tentative embrace.

"Nottingham," he answered, "I'm still needed there. The Sheriff can't afford for me to play babysitter anymore if it means keeping me away from the castle."

"Stay," she pleaded as she stood on tip-toe to reach her mouth up to his, engaging him in a kiss that was so reminiscent of last night's passion it made him start calculating how late he could be while still escaping notice. When she pressed herself against him and he placed his hand on her hips, he began to estimate at what point the Sheriff might begin to wonder where he was. As his heart began to race and compel him to push Mariella towards the bed nearly all thought of anything else was gone. In that moment he wanted her more than he feared punishment by the Sheriff.

Guy's passion was quickly losing constraints and that began to scare as well as excite Mariella. As his hands explored her body—running up and down her side, feeling the flesh of her thigh through her dress—he inspired stirrings within Mariella that she had never felt in such magnitude before. Suddenly she knew what it was like to fall victim to her cravings, to know that something was wrong and that she might later regret it yet not be able to stop. At this time it all seemed right; her fingers running through his hair as they as they kept their lips locked together, their bodies smashed as closely together as was pleasurably possible, him finally bringing her to the place their path had been taking them, only breaking the kiss to gently ease her down on its mattress.

But as he looked down at her from where he positioned himself over her, he had a sudden change of heart. Mariella's hair was laid out around her like a halo of silk. The neckline of her dress had slipped, revealing the soft curve of her shoulder and the delicate allure of her neck and collarbone. And even though her forest green eyes were filled with a hungry longing, the only conclusion Guy could come to was that she took his breath away. She was beautiful. Slowly he leaned down and put his lips to her neck and began romancing it with little kisses. He could almost feel the heat of her passion coursing through her, which was why it surprised Mariella when he said, "I have to go."

"Don't go," she whined as she held him to her.

"I have to go," he said again as he continued to work at her neck.

"Don't."

"No, no… I have to go," he said with even more resolution as gave Mariella one last caress before he tore himself away from her. He stood and looked down at her as she propped herself up. She looked as sweet and pure as ever and he still couldn't bring himself to destroy that. "Now's not the time."

Without another word said, he turned and made his way to the door. Just as he was about to close it behind him, he stopped and told her, "Stay inside. If you have any questions, ask Thornton. He's usually just downstairs. I'll be back later tonight." And with the closing of the door he was gone. It seemed like seconds later she heard the gallop of his horse's hooves as he sped away. She jumped up from her bed to see him off. He didn't so much as look back.


	34. Trapped

After Guy had left, Mariella tried not to linger on him, but the memory of his touch was engraved in her body's memory. It got to a point where she had to force herself to find a distraction. First she tried pacing. It helped little. She cast her gaze over to the small chest that rested on the floor at the end of her bed. Curiosity overcame her and she went to investigate. She undid the straps that secured the lid and opened it. Inside she found little of interest; linens, books, and a washbasin with a pitcher. She reached for one of the tattered books and opened it, blankly scanning the pages as she flipped through it. After returning it to its place, she removed the washbasin, set it on the floor next to her bed, and put her bag where it had previously been.

Now that she was unpacked, she looked for some other sort of amusement. For this, she had to venture outside of her room. She approached the door hesitantly and meekly lifted the latch. After taking a deep breath of reassurance, she opened the door and stared at the walkway outside. No one else was in sight. Gaining a little courage, she poked her head out of the door and looked to her left and right. She still saw no one. Having tested the waters she dared to step out of the doorway, now completely exited from her room. After closing the door behind her, she took soft steps around the second floor, peeping into open doorways.

Finally, she came to a closed door. Something within her urged her to reach for the handle, but when she tried to open it, it did not yield.

"That's Lord Gisborne's chamber," a voice from below called.

Mariella's head whipped around to see the source to find that it was an elderly man, along in his years, who spoke to her. "Shouldn't go in there," he went on as he traveled to the staircase and Mariella's hand fell from the door, "He likes his privacy, you see. Not that I think you would have any reason to go in there, because you shouldn't." When he finally reached Mariella he stopped and smiled as he examined Mariella in a little more detail. "You are the Lady Mariella," he sighed with what Mariella interpreted as a sort of remorse, "It is a terrible thing when young ladies have to flee their homes. I'm sorry they couldn't provide you with a better place to stay."

"Oh, no, this place is lovely," Mariella insisted as she had finally found her voice, "It's simple. I like simple. And my room is lovely, Mister…?"

"I beg your pardon, my lady," as he gave a small bow of the head, "I'm Thornton, one of the head servants here. If you ever need anything, anything at all, you can ask me."

"Well, could you spare me a tour of the village?" she asked hopefully.

"Sorry, miss, but I was told not to let you out," Thornton lamented, "Outlaws pass by here more frequently than we let on to Gisborne and if they saw you... Well, we don't really want to find out what would happen if they knew you were here." Seeing the look of disappointment on the young lady's face, it took every bit of his resilience not to give in. "I can give you a tour of the manor, however. Mind you, it will be a short one, but it'll be better than nothing. Maybe then we can discuss a few options of how we can keep you happy here."

* * *

"I'll ask nicely one more time," Guy warned the prisoner as he grabbed the bars and leaned forward, "What do you know about those criminals in the forest?"

Laura didn't move a muscle as she sat on the ground of her cell, staring at the ground.

Guy had been questioning this girl for the past couple of days and so far he had heard not one word from her lips. Seeing that this was not about to change he stopped himself from growling in frustration. He'd tried interrogation, bribery, threats; nothing seemed to work. He was left with only one option.

"Get the jailer," he ordered a nearby guard in a soft yet menacing tone.

The guard left and Laura slowly lifted her head up to find that she and Guy were now alone. She stared at him with pensive, brown eyes as she stared at Guy with consideration. "What do you think she would think of you if she knew you were doing this?" she asked him.

The question surprised Guy, wondering if she could really know anything. Of course, he didn't let the shock show on his face. Instead, he simply intensified his glare. "What are you talking about, thief?" his voice was close to a rumble.

"Word travels quickly and to all corners in the underground, my lord," Laura smiled slyly, "Now answer me: What would she think if she knew you were doing this to one of her friends?"

Memories of Mariella's early days sprung to mind. It was true; Mariella had spent much time with this servant before being elevated to a higher rank. It must have been a good friendship if she was willing to sneak down here to save her.

As the guard and jailer returned, Guy stood up straight and returned Laura's gaze. "You're right," he said coolly, "She would be upset. Which is why I'm not going to be the one to do it." He turned to the guard. "Find out what you can," he instructed, "She's being hung tomorrow so try not to overdo it."

"Yes, sir," the guard nodded coldly.

Guy left at that point and made his way out of the dungeon and to the upper levels, on his way to report to the Sheriff. At reaching his door, posing to knock, he stopped himself. There had been a question creeping into his mind the last couple of days and it was finally coming into fruition, however, he wasn't sure whether now was the proper time to present it. He continued to ponder it after he'd finally knocked. An answer behind the doors invited him in.

The Sheriff was tending to his collection of songbirds that never seemed to sing. He was currently clipping the wings of a canary. "What word, Gisborne?" he asked.

"We've brought in a couple more outlaws this morning," he reported, "That brings us up to fourteen, having lost five to previous injuries. They're being questioned—"

"Were there only fourteen plus five when we were attacked the other day?" Vasey asked before he let the bird's wing fold back into place, "A clue: No. So, tell me… How much longer are you going to let this horde of ruffians run around?"

"Well, it was my thinking that with this many of their comrades in captivity, they'll attempt a rescue," Guy explained, "If they don't show up by the time the prisoners' feet stop twitching, we'll expand our search and double our efforts."

"Very well. Good work, Gisborne," Vasey commented before he gave the bird a quick kiss on before replacing him in the cage and reaching for another.

"Is that all, my lord?" Guy asked, trying to ignore the rarity of the half compliment he'd just received.

"Did Mariella get settled in all right?" Vasey asked as he began work on another bird.

"Yes, she seemed fine when I left this morning," he confirmed.

"And you told her to stay inside?"

"Yes, my lord."

"Did you provide her with any pastimes?"

"Pastimes?" Guy repeated, having no memory of receiving an order to arrange anything else but comfort.

"Yes, Gisborne. Women need hobbies to occupy their pretty, little heads. Does she have books? Embroidery? You know… female entertainments."

"I hadn't really thought—"

"Women need to be distracted, Gisborne," Vasey explained as he put the last bird back in its cage, "If they're bored, they're unhappy, if they're unhappy they have a great potential to strum up trouble. You wouldn't want her strumming up trouble in your own home, would you?"

"What could she possibly do?" Guy questioned, thinking that the Sheriff was vastly over exaggerating.

"It would only take one step of her tiny, little foot to lead her outside into the village, Gisborne," Vasey pointed out, "Then she might start talking to people. She might learn things about your residents, things about their lives. Even worse, she might start learning things about you, about us."

Guy became a little more nervous.

"Keep her inside and entertained and you'll keep her happy. Keep her happy and you'll keep her ignorant. Ignorant women are manageable women, Gisborne. Always remember that."

"Yes, sir."

"Anyway… I don't suspect that she'll be in my custody for much longer."

The statement struck Guy with worry that he forced himself to hide. "Why do you say that, sir?"

"Sir Dante has asked for her hand."

"And you agreed?" he almost exclaimed.

"Not yet," Vasey sighed, "I'm just not so sure I want to just hand her off to the first man that comes along. It's too soon."

"Are you saying you're not ready to give her up?"

"Please, Gisborne," Vasey brushed off as he went to the window, turning his back to his subordinate to hide any hint of emotion, "I just simply mean that someone else might come along with a better offer."

"What has he offered?"

"His allegiance," Vasey reported in a mocking tone, "Plus five hundred pounds."

"Are you considering it?"

"Well, if someone else doesn't step up soon then I might. Having five hundred pounds and having handed her off is better than not having either."

"Have you talked to her about it?"

"No. She's been mild lately. Don't want to go upsetting her again."

"No, I suppose not."

"Well, that's all, Gisborne," Vasey sighed as he went to sit at his desk, "You may go."

"Thank you, sir," Guy said with a bow and a turn to leave.

He was stopped when the Sheriff had an afterthought. "Unless there's someone else you might know of who might be interested!" Vasey called after him.

"Sir?"

"You spent some time with her," Vasey said, his voice expressing multiple connotations, "Any ideas?"

Guy knew he had to tread carefully when he lied, "No, sir."

The Sheriff scrutinized Guy, contemplating how harshly to judge him. "Very well," he sighed as he casually looked through the papers on his desk, only to look up at Guy with a stern stare. "Just make sure nothing happens to her or I will punish the man responsible." He paused. "You may go now."

Guy fled the place as calmly as he could so that he might escape without further suspicion of guilt. As he went down the halls, Guy worried that the Sheriff might know about the entire affair but caused himself to doubt since he had not addressed it directly, as was his nature, and that he had placed Mariella in his care. But then again, the Sheriff often acted subtly and secretly. His plans were often sly and cunning and while his speaking was often blunt, his plots were not. Either way, Guy promised himself that he would be more careful with Mariella. If word ever got back to the Sheriff it would be disastrous for all.


	35. Examination

Under the urging of Thornton, Mariella found occupation in practicing her embroidery and she found company with a sweet matron servant of the house, Mrs. Thomas. They sat in silence with their needles at steady work, Mrs. Thomas fixing worn seams and any other holes that might have appeared while Mariella used her limited knowledge of decorative sewing to attempt sewing a flower.

"I just can't understand how one man can go through so many shirts," Mrs. Thomas commented as she finished her stitch, "especially when they're covered by all of that hide he insists on wearing all the time. I imagine it'd be terribly uncomfortable in these warm days." She sighed. "I think it's his heart of ice that keeps him cool in all this black." She lifted the dark shirt to examine her work in the light from the window. Satisfied, she folded it and set it aside only to pick up another and examine it for her next task.

"Huh…" she said to herself, "An odd place for a hole…"

Mariella's eyes reflexively flickered up politely until she saw to where Mrs. Thomas was refering. The hole was placed in the breast of the garment. Memories of arrows came racing back to her.

"Oh, this won't do!" the older woman tisked as she found the other holes, "Riddled with holes it is! And look at this! Stained! Looks like the master either had a rough time with this shirt or it's very bad luck. Either way, he can't be keeping it."

"Wait!" Mariella urged gently, "Let me see it."

Understandably, Mrs. Thomas only stared at her a moment before handing it over. As Mariella caressed its soft wool, she felt the remnant presence of its owner in it. She could still feel the rush of the chase as Guy carried Mariella away to safety on the back of his horse. A bond formed that day, one which allowed Mariella trust Guy completely. It was the day that Mariella had learned to accept her feelings for him. "I was there when this happened," she explained as her bandaged hand found the dark stain of his blood, "It's how I was injured."

Mariella looked at the shirt. She'd almost forgotten how many injuries he'd suffered. A slice to the side, three arrows to non-disastrous areas of the torso, including the one that had pierced her hand. This wasn't even to mention the wound that he'd taken to his leg. The memory of the incident worried her.

"Excuse me," she said as she stood and left with the shirt and sewing in hand. She went to her room and quickly set the things on her bed and then began slipping out of her dress and all else, as well as her bandages. Sitting down on her bed she examined the stitching in her leg. The lesion was closing. Then she looked at her hand. It was still a gruesome sight. This worried her. Guy was walking around with several injuries similar to hers. How was he fairing?

She went to her basin and poured water into it so that she might clean her meager wounds. She would have to check up on Guy when he returned home.

Little did Mariella know that she would be waiting a very long time. Darkness fell and hours passed and still Guy had not returned. Some of the servants told her that this was unusual for him. It was yet another cause for concern. She laid in bed, listening for any sign of his return, unable to sleep when it didn't come.

Finally, gentle hoof beats sounded outside. Mariella rose and pulled back the curtain of her window. She saw him go into the stable. Quickly she went to light a candle and pull on her robe of white cotton. After tucking rolled bandages beneath her arm, she took up the candle, went to the door, and softly stepped outside. She stepped to the railing and looked down into the main entrance. Guy was not there.

Holding her breath, she waited. She began to count the seconds of anxiety. When at last Guy made an entrance, Mariella let out a silent breath of relief.

Instantly upon entering Guy saw the light of her candle and squinted to try to see past it. "Mariella?" he questioned as he ascended the stairs and made a path towards her, "What are you doing up?"

"I was worried," she admitted as he drew nearer, "You were out so late and… I saw your shirt from the other day when we were attacked. It reminded me that I haven't checked up on you in some time."

"You should be in bed," he insisted, "It's late."

"You should be tended to," Mariella returned.

"I'm fine."

"Let me determine that for myself." She didn't let him respond, but walked away and went to wait at the door of his room. Seeing that she was obstinate and that he was tired, Guy only sighed and went to unlock the door, opening it and holding it open so that she could step in, which she did. Quickly she found the cloths, bowl, herbs, and water she'd requested to be there. She set down the candle and bandages. The click of the latch and the lock sounded. Mariella turned to face Guy.

"I thought of you a lot today," he told her as he moved closer to her, the sound of his footsteps like the slow, steady beating of her own heart, "I thought of you here alone." When he placed his hands on her curves he still wore gloves so although he could not properly feel the warmth of her flesh through the robe, Mariella could aptly feel the night chill that clung to him as it seeped through the cloth. With this thought in mind, Guy removed the articles, tossed them aside, and returned his hands to her waist. Her body did indeed feel warm to the touch and it sparked a great fire in Guy's heart.

"Mariella," he said softly, "Are you wearing anything under this?"

Nervously the maiden went to pull the folds of her neckline closer together. "I was in a bit of a hurry to see you," she answered with a blush.

The pique to his interest was apparent in the sly smirk that appeared on his face. "Oh, really?" he asked as he let his hands begin to wander, but Mariella grabbed them and stopped them in their paths.

"Your injuries, Sir Guy," she reminded him, "Perhaps I _should_ come back tomorrow?"

"No, I'm sorry," Guy stopped as he stepped away and turned towards his bed, stripping away his overcoat in a cooperative manner and draping it over the foot of the bed, "This should be taken care of."

Mariella nodded and turned back to the table where she had set up her things. She began to prepare them, adding the herbs to the water and making sure the bandages were ready for use. By the time she went to face him again he was just removing his shirt and hanging that, too, over the footboard of the bed.

When he turned to face her Mariella was struck by second thoughts of where the night might lead, but she knew she had to do her best to keep her professional mindset. Only when her examination of his stitching was over would she allow anything else.

"Shall we?" Guy asked, taking a sort of delight in inspiring her unhidden attraction.

"Yes," Mariella coughed as she forced an air of seriousness into herself, "Come closer to the light please."

Guy obeyed and rejoined her where she could have a better look at him. It was difficult to maintain her professionalism when faced with this sort of exposure of a man she felt deeply for, especially as she gingerly removed the bandages that acted as the last bit of concealment. She was glad to see his wounds were doing well—no sign of infection. He was taking care of himself for the most part, although the effects of his daily activities could be seen as she noticed that his injuries were not healing as quickly as they might have been.

"Well, it looks like you've been fighting off infection well," she reported as she went to go clean up the trouble areas, "Keep this up and you will live, however, I do suggest that you limit your movement a little more."

"And if I don't?"

"It will take you longer to heal."

"That's fine by me," Guy nodded, "If it won't kill me, I won't give up my work."

"Guy, the longer it takes for you to heal the longer your injuries will hold you back."

"I'll manage."

"Don't be proud, Guy," Mariella told him as she applied a bit of unnecessary pressure to one of his cuts, making him wince and proving a point, "These are not common paper cuts."

"And my line of work isn't so common either," he pointed out, "The Sheriff relies on me, especially now that we're so close to catching an entire troupe of outlaws."

"Ah, yes, the outlaws," Mariella repeated in a sarcastic tone, "Certainly your injuries wouldn't be a problem when hunting them, would they?"

"I doubt the hunt will last that much longer," Guy corrected her, urging another hurtful prod from Mariella. He ignored it and went on, "The hangings are to occur in the morning. Since the others have not yet attempted a rescue yet, that's when we expect them to come. We will be ready."

"Guy," Mariella spoke as she set the cloth down to look into Guy's steely and cold eyes, "Please… I've never asked you for anything before-"

"I cannot save your friend, Mariella," he stopped her, knowing exactly what she would ask.

"Please, Guy," she implored him as she put her hands into his, "She is a good friend to me. She is a good woman."

"She committed a crime, Mariella."

"For a good reason!"

"Lower your voice," Guy warned as he looked towards the door, listening for any movement beyond it.

She took the suggestion, but her words became harsh. "The punishment does not match the crime, Sir Guy," she argued, "Surely you realize that?"

"We cannot afford to be lax with the law, especially in this time of instability. There must be order. If there is no order, we cannot hope to uphold the law. If we cannot do that, we cannot assure anyone's safety or well-being."

"I think you are far more concerned about punishing criminals than you are about anyone's safety or well-being."

"I am trying to make this a place where citizens can trust their landlords to take care of them, but I can't do that until power is restored to the nobles."

"You mean until power is restored to you?"

"Power is what defines a man in this world," Guy told her, "It determines his respectability, his wealth, his ability to protect and provide for his family… Status is everything in this world."

"No, it isn't," Mariella insisted as she turned her back on him to begin cleaning her station, "The quality of a man isn't determined by the size or contents of his estate, but by the makeup of his character. Giving a bad man power doesn't make him good just as taking away what he has doesn't turn him bad."

"And what am I?" Guy asked from behind her, the words whispering like a soft wind on her ear. Tenderly he reached up to draw her loose hair from one shoulder to the other, exposing her neck so that he could place a single kiss there. "Am I good or am I bad?"

Every fiber in Mariella's being wanted to say that he was good. She wanted him to take her into his arms and to know that he was the kind and selfless man she thought him to be, but now doubts were sinking in. Buried fears were beginning to resurface. She was reminded of the lengths duplicitous men would go to get what they wanted. It hadn't been until now that Mariella allowed herself to see that Guy had the potential to be one of those men. For the majority of their acquaintance, Mariella had known Guy as a good and trustworthy man, but now she was getting a new view of him, one that told her that maybe he was hiding something.

"I don't know," she confessed as a lump began to form in her throat, "Do I really know you well enough to decide that?"

"You know me," he assured her as he placed his hands on her shoulders.

"Do I? Or do I only know you well enough to realize that there is more to you than you have shown me?" Mariella tore herself away from him and headed for the door, but Guy quickly caught her hand to stop her.

"Mariella…" he said softly, "I'm trying."

Temperamentally, Mariella wrenched her hand from his hold and made for the door. When she closed it behind her she was sure to do so as quietly as possible, her desire for stealth still greater than her desire to storm off. Upon reaching the safety of her room again, she threw off her robe, and fell into bed, trying to suppress the sudden need to cry.


	36. Redemption

The next morning, Mariella woke weary and depressed. A message had been left for her with the servants saying that, if she wished, she could attend the day's executions. When she was first told this, she scoffed at the idea, however, upon further thought she reconsidered. Perhaps she wouldn't go to see a mass of death sentences, but a daring rescue! What if there was something she could do?

Eventually she decided to go. She donned the best dress in her possession and requested the carriage. As an extra measure of secrecy she was sure the Sheriff would appreciate, she found a hooded cape to drape around her shoulders and hide her face. She made a request for haste in the politest way she could manage, got inside, and set off.

A great crowd was gathered in the courtyard for the event. Mariella had to use a side entrance and travel through the castle just to find her place in the open walkway bordering the yard. From there she could see a the gallows, fit with four nooses, as many as the scaffold could hold. On the steps of the castle stood a mass of men, officials to oversee the proceedings. Amongst them was Guy, as stern and serious as he'd been in Mariella's earliest days here. Next to him, beaming like a sunny day, was the Sheriff. "Ladies and gentlemen," he greeted, silencing the low murmur of the crowd, "We are gathered here today to witness the carrying out of justice in the name of our God almighty and King Richard." He recited this blandly and hurriedly, the procedure having lost its interest many hangings ago.

Then, as if on overly rehearsed cue, guards brought the prisoners out into the yard and lined them up between the crowd of peasants and nobles. Amongst the fourteen that were counted, only one did she recognize. Laura looked poorly. She looked tired and dirty and poorly tended to. Despite her physical condition, however, her eyes were strong.

Nearby a drummer started up. Next to him, an official unrolled a scroll and began to read: "Let it be heard and known through the lands of Richard, His Majesty, King of England, that on this the fifth day of May in the year of our Lord 1192, the following men, having been tried under law and found guilty, have been sentenced to hang by a rope until dead." As he went on the outlaws were lead up to their short, wooden pedestals where their nooses awaited their necks. "Robert Cross of Rufford, Laura Cooper of Nottingham, Joseph Quagmire of Mansford…" The list continued until all fourteen were named.

"May you find mercy and—" Vasey's final word was cut off when an arrow flew from nowhere and struck the hangman in the back, sending him falling to the ground, not dead, but seriously injured. Simultaneously four men from the crowd jumped up onto the platform and released their friends, giving them weapons. Meanwhile, even more men went to the aid of those who had been put in line to die. Soon, all hands were freed and given weapons. The guards were immediately put to work while the innocents all fled.

Mariella smiled to herself from where she stood as she watched the outlaws fight their way towards the door. A few, already outside the gate, kept the way clear for their fleeing comrades. Mariella searched for Guy in the scuffle and found him almost immediately. Having lost his sword, he was going one on one with an outlaw that appeared to evenly match him in strength. With a quick move he charged and pushed him backwards and right towards the exit. Once out of the fray and with his opponent temporarily out of sorts, Guy went back to fetch his sword. By the time he'd returned the outlaws already on the opposite side of the exit. Seeing this, all went still and the two groups waited for the other to make a move.

It was the outlaw side that moved eventually. One made for the lever of the gate, thinking to sacrifice himself to save his friends. But Guy quickly went after it too, supposedly to stop him, but from Mariella's special vantage point she could see that when they reached their mutual destination, it wasn't the crash of their collision that sent the young man flying backwards towards his group and brought the portcullis smashing down. Mariella alone was observant enough to see that Guy pushed the lad away and pulled down the lever purposefully, disguising it as a violent accident.

Their escape made for them, they quickly darted away, all in different directions to make finding them harder sooner. Guy hit the wall in feigned anger and started barking orders to his men. As they scrambled about in attempts to obey he called for his horse, got on and looked over to where Mariella stood. Any rage that he had shown disappeared for a brief second and Mariella saw sincerity in his calm blue eyes. In that one look Mariella saw the good man within him peek out a little with an apology in his eyes that he hadn't let this side of him show more often.

As the gate began to creak open, its great weight making a slow process of it, Guy readopted his face of determination and focus and turned his horse towards the gate, ready to pursue through the forest with a select few other riders if those on foot let any slip out past the walls. Those on the ground were able to get out first, the first wave of pursuit. Those on horseback followed shortly after and soon the courtyard was nearly still again.

"Unbelievable!" Vasey was shouting as he threw one of infamous tantrums, "From fourteen outlaws to thirty to none in a matter of minutes! Am I the only one who sees a problem with this?!"

"My lord!" Mariella called as she made her way over to her uncle, "In all fairness, they haven't escaped yet. With the guards on the hunt you might end up with more than fourteen by the end of the day."

"Mariella, dear, you're here!" Vasey stated simply, anger turning to sudden confusion at seeing that his ward had actually decided to accept the invitation, "Why are you here?"

"I was here to support Laura," Mariella explained, then promptly thought of a lie to appease Vasey, "Although I can't forgive her for her crime, she was my friend. I thought I owed it to her to at least come see her die."

"Once the hunting party returns I want you back to you-know-where," Vasey ordered, "It's not safe here, my dear. Please… Go to your room and stay there."

"Yes, my lord."

Obediently Mariella did as she was told and retreated to her room. A great relief had been lifted from her chest when Guy's true colors had shown and her friend was freed. She could breathe a little easier now, feel joy without guilt.

Then there was a knock on the door.

She went to answer it. It was Mark.

Without invitation he made his way in and waited for her to close the door.

"How did you do that?" he questioned with disbelief, his countenance displaying his inability to comprehend what he'd just seen.

"Do… what?"

"I saw what he did," Mark pointed out, "He didn't land a single blow on anyone. Not a cut, barely a bruise. Then he… he… How did you do that?"

"He's not as bad as you might think."

"But he's never acted otherwise!" Mark tried not to shout. "You did something… Something amazing. It's like you control him! You're not sleeping with him, are you?"

Mariella's cheeks colored, but she kept her voice strong. "A woman doesn't need to give herself to a man to sway his heart."

"Well, whatever you're doing, it's working. You think you can keep this up?"

"I thought we went over this, Mark," Mariella groaned, "I won't help you if it betrays either Guy or the Sheriff."

"But you see… with this… talent of yours you won't have to," Mark reminded her, "If you change them, bring them over our way of thinking, it will help."

"I don't know…" Mariella replied as she nervously crossed her arms, "I still feel like it would be wrong. It would be playing them, fooling them."

"No, that's the beauty of it!" Mark smiled as he grabbed her shoulders, "You'd be helping them! You'd be saving them from their miserable lives of evil! Don't you want that? Don't you want them to see the goodness of the world?"

"I do…" She pondered the situation carefully.

"Just try to soften them up," Mark winked with those playful sky eyes, "You're doing a great job of it already."

Mark left without another word. He couldn't stay long.

Alone again, Mariella thought about the proposition Mark had put forward… for about ten minutes. Then her mind wondered back to Guy and his incredible transformation from earlier today. She felt as though she'd gotten through to him, as though she really did mean enough to him for him to want to change.

Her heart raced with delightful anticipation as she awaited his return.

Hours went by and still she waited. The sun was setting and they were still not back. Mariella was beginning to grow anxious and worried the darker it became. Then there was a knock on the door.

She rose from her bed where she waited to answer it. Surely enough it was Guy. With every inch of her restraint, Mariella stopped herself from showing excitement. She stepped aside and let him enter. After closing the door behind him she immediately wrapped her arms around him and began smothering him with kisses. "You were wonderful!" she contained her glee, "You were amazing! That was amazing, Guy."

"What you said last night…" He deliberated on his words as he stared deeply into her eyes, those marvelous blues making it difficult to breathe. "I'd been thinking about it and I really want to try to please you, to become the man you deserve." He kissed her again and held her close. Mariella nearly wept with joy. Then the flames that they'd smothered so many times before began to rise up again from their dormant depths. At the first signs they stopped. Again, it was not the place or time.

"Uncle Vasey still wants me at Locksley," Mariella informed and bit her lip, "Shall we be going?"

"You go ahead," he nodded, "I have to report to the Sheriff."

"Did you catch anyone?" Mariella asked concernedly.

Guy smiled. "Not a one."

Mariella returned the grin. From there Guy dutifully escorted her down to the carriage and then went to report to the Sheriff, eager to finish business here so he could follow Mariella back to the manor as soon as possible.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Sorry I haven't updated in a bit, guys. My health hasn't been suffering lately so... Yeah. Good news is I've been diagnosed with a mild case of chickenpox so I'll be confined to my room for the week with nothing to do but study, read, and write! (I might surf the net and watch movies and videos occasionally.)


	37. A Time and Place

Author's Note: Well, you guys asked for it so here it is. Maybe now you'll be more careful what you wish for...

* * *

Again, Guy was late getting home, but when he did return, he returned with the beat of a galloping horse, the master even more barn-sour than the beast.

Hurriedly he unbridled Judas and removed his saddle and blanket. After seeing that the horse was put in his stable, Guy hastened back towards the house, his pace excited and brisk. Just the thought of being near Mariella again made his blood begin to boil with a hot passion. He entered the house, being sure to keep his steps soft, climbed the stairs, went to Mariella's door and, with the gentlest touch he could manage, opened it.

She was lying in her bed, but was still awake. She turned to see who was at her door. "Guy…" she said softly as her heart caught in her throat.

Modestly she pulled the covers over herself, but only moments before Guy had spied the bare skin of her shoulder, the exposure of her collarbone. Her hair was let down and flowed around her like a magnificent mane, wild and beautiful. Seeing her there so vulnerable and blushing, he suddenly lost his nerve. "I just wanted to make sure you'd arrived safely," he explained, "Excuse me if I disturbed you… Good night."

Just like that, he was gone again, leaving Mariella alone and disappointed.

Once again in his own chambers, Guy began to curse himself as he undressed. He cursed himself for wanting her so basely without provocation. He cursed himself for being so brash as to go to her room. He cursed himself for leaving. Most of all, he cursed himself for wanting her still.

By the time he had stripped down, Guy had calmed himself enough to have a hope of getting some sleep. He pulled back the covers on his bed and got in. The touch of the soft, cool linens felt comforting on his skin, but not enough so to ease his troubled mind. Lying on his back and staring at the ceiling, he began cursing himself all over again for his stupidity.

That was when he heard his door open.

Mariella entered to find Guy already situated in bed, his blankets only covering him from the waist down, leaving the upper half of his shapely body exposed.

She stepped inside and closed the door behind her. She was wearing that robe again…

"It's been lonely without you the past couple of days," Mariella whispered softly, "For this being your home you spend a lot time away from it."

"It's not easy to go, I assure you," Guy replied as his eyes slowly and unashamedly looked over every inch of her body, "Especially when I know I'm leaving you behind."

Mariella smiled slightly at such flattery but let it slip away again when she reminded herself of her situation. She crossed over and placed herself on the bed, lying on her side and gazing over at him, searching his face as if she could find his exact thoughts written there.

His eyes betrayed his desires all to easily and his chest rose and fell in a pattern distinct to only a select range of emotions, the sort that they had both been aching to more thoroughly explore. Mariella moved closer to him and placed a soft hand on his bare chest, the muscle so surprisingly firm that she felt her heart skip a beat. A nervous lump formed in her throat as her pulse began to quicken. She swallowed and tried to calm herself, but with Guy being so close that she could feel his body heat emanating off of him, it was a difficult task.

Guy put his lips to Mariella's and pulled her in to him, the reunion of their bodies easily reviving their suppressed passions.

All of Mariella's fears soon transformed into desire as Guy hungrily kissed her, taking a firm hold of her waist and bringing her on top of him.

Instinctually Mariella let her legs fall to either side of him as they continued to kiss. She felt a new phase of desire rise up within her stomach as she began to squirm around on top of him until she lured a rumbling growl from his throat. Guy began to push himself up, pushing Mariella up as he went so that they were now sitting, Mariella still straddling his lap.

Guy quickly found the sash that held closed that thin and annoying robe that hid Mariella from him. This was it. Their time had finally come. Previously speedy and passionate, here his hands all but stopped. Slowly he began to undo the knot in her sash. This change of pace inspired a longing groan from Mariella, which only made Guy lessen his speed further in prospects of heightening her eagerness. He wanted her to feel a longing that was stronger than any other she'd ever experienced.

The tie undone, a narrow gap formed to reveal a taunting slice of her body. Guy could now run a hand from her neck, down between her still hidden breasts, over her stomach until his touch could go no further, stopping at the pelvis.

Mariella moaned, relishing the calloused stroke of his hand on the soft expanses of her previously unexplored body.

Guy took both hands and circled them around to her back so that there was now nothing separating them as he pulled her in for another kiss, flesh against soft and heated flesh.

As his hands traveled frontward again, Mariella's pulse heightened. He may not have shown his enthusiasm as openly as Mariella, but she still sensed it. It was as if she could feel the throbbing of his heart as he stared into her eyes, she could smell his readiness steaming like vapors from his skin, she could taste his hunger in every kiss.

Guy moved his hands up her sides, feeling the smooth curves of her body as he traveled up, her robe parting more and more the further he rose.

Finally, her breasts revealed themselves. After taking a moment to feed his appetite with the mere sight of them, he lowered his head down pulled her closer so that she was now on her knees with Guy showering her modest yet supple attributes with delicate kisses. Mariella melted from the treatment, but her desire grew as Guy became more passionate in his expressions. With a rough force, he pulled her back down onto him and began to kiss every inch of her his mouth could find. As Mariella repositioned herself on top of him, she could now feel his definite longing for her beneath the sheets.

This unfamiliar desire scared her. She lifted herself up slightly so that she was no longer resting on his lap, only to let out a gasp when she found its absence turned out to be painful. Gingerly she lowered herself onto him again and felt him between her legs. Even through the thick blanket, she could feel the intimidating size of him. Oh, how she wanted it now!

Mariella slipped her arms out of the robe and let it fall to the ground. She was ready for him.

In response, Guy accepted this long-awaited invitation by grabbing her, bringing her to the side of him, and getting her under the covers with him now on top of her.

Guy pressed his lips to Mariella's in deep and sultry kiss, both breathing heavily as Guy settled himself between her thighs. Mariella propped her legs up and wrapped her arms around Guy, pulling him close to her as she braced herself for what was to come.

"Are you ready?" he huffed in her ear, smiling like a wolf in heat. Mariella could feel his anticipation tickling against the lips that yearned to have their first taste of sin.

"Yes," she breathed as she held him tighter, waiting anxiously for him to claim her.

He dipped his tip into her, as if to test the waters, then swiftly withdrew again, leaving Mariella breathless from this sampling of pleasure.

"Are you sure you want it?" he teased, his mouth playing at her ear.

"God, yes!" she cried as her back arched with impatience.

He put himself in a little deeper, but again left Mariella unsatisfied.

"Guy!" she pled, "Please! Just do it. Please, please, just do it, just do it."

Guy lowered his lips to Mariella's neck and began to kiss it fervently. Then, just as had been requested, he slid himself into her with a slick thrust.

In those few moments, the world stopped and Mariella's breath escaped her.

Guy let loose a single moan when he realized how perfectly she fit him, how extraordinary it felt to be inside of her at last.

He carefully withdrew himself only to reenter again with an increased gusto, and again and again he went.

The first few motions were strange and uncomfortable for Mariella, but with every new stroke came the realization of how wonderful he actually felt. Every thrust set her on fire, the next warmer than the last.

Guy soon began to gather speed and as lapses between every sparking strike closed, Mariella felt her fire begin to rage inside of her, lusting for more and more heat. Mariella was so crazed by her desire that she found herself digging her nails into Guy's back and then pulling them down in a loving scratch.

Guy grunted at the pain, but did not protest to it.

Instead, he only sped up again.

Mariella began to meet Guy's every motion, matching his rhythm and driving him so deep that she could feel the soft caress of his legacy's pouch telling her that he was in her to the hilt. It was the kind of penetration that made her whimper his name with muted cries of "Yes! Yes! Oh, God! Yes!"

Suddenly her greed for him began to consume her. Her speed began to outrun his.

Seeing that his partner would no longer be submissive to him, Guy turned over and set her on top of him, allowing her do all the pleasing she liked.

She rode him hot and heavy, her juices dripping down her thighs in a slippery excess. She could feel Guy stiffen even more as she began to work him. She could tell he was enjoying her. Now it was his turn to do the begging.

Of course, Guy would never voice his pleadings. He only grabbed her hips, closed his eyes, and began to push her on and off of him as quickly and as deeply as he could, the rhythmic creaking of the bed accompanying his occasional pleasured grunts.

While this marvelous bedroom symphony was reaching its crescendo, Mariella had to stop herself from crying out from this incredible experience. This secret could not leave the room. She could only manage a suppressed shriek. Everything within her was on the verge of bursting.

Then she felt it.

It was pounding at her entrance like an oncoming storm, begging, screaming, demanding to be unleashed. She had just enough warning to collapse down, hide her face in a pillow, and scream a muffled ecstasy, her body tensing on top of Guy's as the wave coursed through her. Her breath became uneven, her head spun, and her womanhood tingled.

Mariella's began to thank every part of Guy she could land her lips on. Her body went slack and she rolled herself off from atop Guy, who quickly assumed the dominant position once more.

At first, she began to wearily protest, but as he began to pulse himself in and out of her once again, she quickly regained her will to go on. She wanted more.

Their sticky bodies were beginning to mingle now. Guy kissed her as his speed began to peak. In those moments where Mariella could no longer tell who started or ended where, she felt that they weren't just two bodies writhing together, connected by sensual pleasure and lust. They were intertwined, heart, body, and soul. They were one being.

Then came Guy's final thrust and suddenly Mariella felt her body go numb with another wave. Both cried out in succession and their lips broke away from each other, leaving them panting as they reveled in their success.

Guy returned his lips to Mariella's as soon he was of mind to and then pulled away again, his body shaking from exhaustion.

"Wow…" Mariella sighed as she grabbed his hips and pulled him in deeper, savoring his length within her.

"Yeah…" Guy agreed as he helped her by driving himself in a little further, making her shudder and quiver one last time, "Wow."


	38. The Morning After

When Mariella next awoke, she at first couldn't remember where she was. Laying on her side and looking out into the room, the first thing she noticed was that she was not in her own bed.

And then she remembered.

Morning was just beginning to leak into Guy's chambers, making the air blue and hazy.

She turned her head to look around, slowly regaining feeling in her limbs as she roused them from rest. Once again aware of her body, she could feel the heavy arm of Guy encircling her rib cage from behind, but as she began to stir into motion so did it. It traveled across her front and to her side, pausing only for a moment before it began to run up and down the length of her. The stimulation brought her further into the waking world.

Mariella turned over to see the owner.

Guy appeared to have been awake before her, his eyes already sharp as he laid next to her, propped up on an elbow and examining the woman beside him.

"Good morning, my lord," Mariella greeted sweetly, a smile on her lips and a twinkle in her eye.

Guy's face did not falter from its serious and pensive expression. He leaned down and gave Mariella gentle kiss on the lips. "Good morning," he returned softly.

This strange behavior did not go unnoticed by Mariella. "Is something wrong?"

"Mariella," he began as he averted his gaze from her, trying to piece together what he wanted to say, "Last night… was amazing."

"I'm glad you thought so," Mariella smiled as she propped herself up to level with him, wondering to herself what could possibly be on his mind.

"And you're amazing," Guy went on, "You are an amazing woman…"

Now the direction of the conversation began to unsettle Mariella, but she stayed silent as she listened intently.

"You are like no one I have ever met before. You're the only one that could ever make me believe that I can be saved from what I am. I want to be with you always."

"Guy…" she pined as she tried to stop him. She wasn't ready for this.

He reached under the pillow and pulled out a ring with a little, red ribbon tied to it. Floral design and tiny sparkling gems traced the band. It was truly the work of an artist, fit for the finest noblewoman. Mariella sat up in bed, holding the blankets to her body like a shield.

"Mariella…" he whispered as he sat up with her, "I want you to be mine." Tears began to stream down Mariella's face.

Guy reached for her hand to place the ring, but Mariella jolted it away as if he was a venomous snake. Guy looked up to see her shaking her hanging head side to side with tears pouring down her face.

"No," came the unexpected denial as she rose from the bed and pulled on her robe, "I'm sorry. I can't."

Before Guy could do anything to stop her, she was racing for the exit. He jumped up as she closed the door behind her, he heard her footsteps scamper to her room, open its door, and close it again. He shuffled for his trousers, scrambling clumsily into them in a wild haste as he tried to go after her.

Once laced decently, he went for the door, taking long strides as he headed for her room. He reached for the latch and shook it violently in his frustration. It didn't give.

"Mariella," he snarled, trying to keep his temper, "Open the door."

"No!" she called from behind the wooden barrier.

"At least… talk to me!" he demanded heatedly, "I deserve an explanation."

The door unlocked and Mariella opened it just enough to converse. Her lovely green eyes sparkled with anger and frustration that nearly equaled Guy's. "Why can't you understand?" she whispered harshly, "I can't marry you! I don't want to!"

Guy's face transformed from anger to confusion. "You… don't want to marry me?" From confusion to pain. "Why don't you want to marry me?"

Guilt began to weigh heavily on her heart. "It's not you, Guy," she assured tenderly as she attempted comfort him with a gentle caress on his cheek. He pulled away from her. He refused to look at her. Mariella brushed the rejection off and tried to go on. "Guy… You are very special to me. I'm just not ready for marriage yet. I don't want it."

"Then when will you want it?" he questioned as he stared her down, the hurt apparent in his eyes.

Mariella gave a weak shrug. "I don't know."

Guy cast his gaze to the ground and crossed his arms in front of his chest, nodding his head as he processed he response and tried to reel back his emotions. "Very well," he bit before looking back up and leaning in towards her, "I _will_ keep asking." He turned and left back to his room, thus ending the discussion with the slam of a door.

* * *

One consolation that Mariella received came in the form a new privilege. Mariella was now allowed out into the village so long as two guards accompanied her. She took this newfound freedom and used it to stroll about Locksley. She wanted to forget the morning's discourse.

She spent an hour or so that morning walking amongst and talking to the villagers. Impressively, most reported that they somehow managed to get enough food when thy truly needed it; the season had been plentiful even if wages were poorly. They were getting by, but with much difficultly. She listened to their talk of hunger, of aches and pains, of weariness and discomfort. She heard all of them. Then she came to a maiden plagued by a troublesome cut.

"Caught it on a splinter," she explained as she unwrapped the rag from her hand to reveal the vile thing, "It's not healing too well."

"Come by the house later," Mariella told her, careful not to let on how angry the gash looked, "It needs proper care."

"I don't want to trouble you, miss."

"I insist," Mariella replied, placing a gentle hand on the girl's shoulder, "Come by later, whenever you can manage."

This being her last call, she went to work, her guards making sure to follow closely behind.

"My lady," one said as she hurried along, "Where are you going?"

"I just need to gather a few herbs," Mariella explained as she headed towards the village border, "I imagine there will be some useful ones around here somewhere."

"Lord Gisborne instructed that you were to remain in the immediate vicinity," the other one protested, "We can't let you wander far."

"I won't go too far then," she agreed as she lessened her pace and looked around. She saw a splash of color and went towards it. From this splash, she began picking flowers. The guards exchanged glances as they watched the lady innocently collect a variety of flowers, then move on to her next spot. For the next ten minutes, she collected a variety of flowers, leaves, and weeds. The guards didn't feel brave enough to question it. Upon returning to the manor, they watched her reenter the house and take the plants to her room there she stayed with servants bringing her things until that wounded maiden came to call.

She was received immediately, accepted into the lady's room where she stayed for ten minutes, leaving with a freshly bandaged hand and happier spirits. It didn't take any genius to tell that Mariella was starting to change things.

Later that day, she even made deliveries of her simple remedies. It brought her a sort of peace to see the gratitude in the villager's eyes. It reminded her of her younger days when she would accompany her mother on her rounds. She felt as though she was truly returning to her old, Venetian self again.

* * *

"My lord," Gisborne greeted as he entered the Sheriff's office, "I must speak with you."

"If this has anything to do with the other day then don't waste your breath," Vasey sighed, "I've forgotten all about it. Now, you're only job is to run about all day in the forest and hunt down those which have repeatedly escaped your grasp."

"It doesn't concern the outlaws," Guy insisted as he approached the desk, placing his hands on it and leaning forward, "It's about Mariella."

Vasey's brows furrowed and his eyes narrowed as he awarded Guy with his attention. "What about Mariella?" he inquired suspiciously.

"I want your permission to take her as my bride." Once said Guy regretted it almost immediately. It was too brash. He knew the Sheriff would never approve.

"Is that all, Gisborne?" Vasey sighed as he went back to his work.

The unexpected nonchalance of the Sheriff threw Guy off. "Yes…" Guy confirmed with an extremely confused expression on his face. Was this a trap?

"Twenty-eight outlaws, Gisborne, by the end of the month," the Sheriff assigned as he stood up from his chair and went to the window.

"Is that your price?"

"_That_ is your job," the Sheriff pointed out, "And there's no need to bother bringing them into town, making a fuss. Should make things a bit easier. I just want a list of twenty-eight names, signed by at least two witnesses to the deeds. As for your request, I'll consider it."

"Consider it?" Guy repeated as he took two steps towards the Sheriff, "That's it? No price? No demands? Lord Dante offered five-hundred-"

"Do you want me to make demands, Gisborne?" the Sheriff mocked in that condescending tone, "Do you really want me to because I will. I'll do it." Guy kept his mouth shut and yielded. "Twenty-eight names, Gisborne… by the end of the month."

"Yes, my lord," Guy bowed before leaving again.

When the door shut behind him, the Sheriff allowed himself a smirk. He couldn't say that he didn't see this coming.


	39. Reconciliation

Again, Guy was late coming home. An latent quiet blanketed the manor as Mariella sat down to dinner alone. If she closed her eyes, she could almost hear the comfortable chirping of the crickets. She glanced over at the untouched plate she'd had made for Guy and sighed, wondering what on earth could occupy him after the sun went down night after night.

That's when she heard the galloping hoofbeats of what could only the manor's lord, returning from another day of duty.

When Guy finally entered, he found Mariella waiting quietly for him, her food barely touched. Upon his appearance, the lady stood from her seat to greet him. Unfortunately, she planned her welcome no further and was forced to stand silently with a mind devoid of every method of salutation she had ever learned.  
"I didn't know when you would be coming back," she shyly stated, "I had them make a plate for you. I wasn't sure if you would eat before returning or..." Her voice trailed off as words began to fail her.

"Thank you," he returned bluntly, without moving from his spot, "I'm not hungry."

For some reason, Mariella found herself taking this denial to heart. "Oh..." she replied, "I just... I thought maybe you'd like some replenishment. I thought maybe we could talk."

Suddenly, the weariness in his eyes was replaced by interest. "About what exactly?" he inquired.

"What happened this morning..." Mariella started off, the recalling of the event painful and embarrassing, "... It wasn't fair to you and I wanted to apologize. It's just that... I was scared. You took me by surprise. I wasn't ready for it."

Guy crossed his arms in front of himself. His gaze unfocused and directed at the ground, he listened to her intently, every syllable a bandage to his pride. Regardless, when she finished the wound was still there. The confusion was still there. He looked up. "Well, what do you think now that you've had some time to think it over?" Guy asked as he took a couple steps towards her.

Mariella winced. "My answer is still the same," she said. It wasn't what he wanted to hear, she knew, but it was the truth, which is what he deserved.  
"I thought so..." he sighed, "I have something for you."

"What?" Mariella questioned as Guy held his hand out to her.

"Come with me," he whispered lowly, aware that someone might spy them at any moment, "Quickly."

Trustingly Mariella obeyed, putting her hand in his and allowing him to lead her up the stairs and to his room. With the doors closed he began to hunt through his pocket for the promised present.

When he found it, he pulled out a small, wooden box, its pale, square lid painted with simple and geometric designs."What is it?" Mariella asked as she stared at the offering.

"Open it," he insisted with a smirk.

Tentatively Mariella slid the top from its place. Inside, nestled in black velvet rested a silver cuff bracelet set with red semi-precious stones. It stole the breath from Mariella's mouth.

"It's beautiful," was all she could bring herself to say.

"Suited for a beautiful woman," Guy commented as he took the trinket from its case, the latter of which he set aside, and then he took her hand, "I want you to know that I can take care of you. You, Mariella, will never want for anything. I could never deny you anything. Mariella... I've never felt anything like this before."

He carefully placed the bracelet on her wrist, then lifted her hand to his lips at which point he gave it a gentle kiss. Mariella stared at the bracelet, speechless as she thought it might have been the finest item she had ever owned. It felt wonderful to know that he cared so deeply about her that he would present her with this gorgeous gift. "Guy..." she smiled as she looked from the jewelry back to him, "I... I don't know what to say."

"I just want you to be happy," he assured her as he tenderly took her face in his hands, "I want you to know that I... that you are..." No matter how he tried, he couldn't get out that one, small word. "I care for you, Mariella. Remember that."

"I'm well aware, Guy," Mariella smiled.

"Mariella..." There was something nagging at him in the back of his mind. "Excuse me for asking this but... Why did you say no?"

The uneasiness came rushing back to Mariella. She didn't know quite how to answer. "I'm not ready," she attempted, "I'm not ready to surrender myself to marriage, to belong to someone else for the rest of my life."

"But you would belong to me, Mariella."

"You act as if it's easy, Guy!" Mariella countered, his lack of consideration hitting a small nerve, "This is my freedom we are discussing. It's a life decision. If I were to marry you, you would gain me as a bride but I would lose everything. I would be committed to this life until the day I died. I'm not ready to subject myself to that sort of life yet, Guy. I'm just not ready."

He was silent for the next few moments. When he spoke his voice was soft, "Would a life with me be so horrible?"

"Guy..." she sighed, but she could neither confirm nor deny his inquiry. She was speechless once again. Her mind and her heart were not in agreement and could not understand each other.

Guy was upset. That was obvious. He was upset and she could say nothing to comfort him. Finally, lacking the words to reach out to him, she reached out physically and wrapped her arms around him in fear that might lose him otherwise. She needed to remind him that her arms remained open to him even when her mind was not.

In her familiar embrace, Guy relaxed a little and returned the gesture. He was reminded of Mariella's feelings for him and it provided a sliver of comfort, even though he still feared for their questionable constancy.

"Mariella, I..." Still he couldn't get the words out. He changed course. "I don't want to lose you."

"And you won't," she soothed, "I will be here as long as you want me."

"I want you... always," he insisted as he broke away, "I could never want anyone else as much as I want you."

"You have me, Guy," Mariella replied, "You will always have me."

"Is that not the same as being married?" pointed out Guy.

"Staying with you by choice is not the same as being held by obligation or contract," Mariella defended, "I have given myself to you willingly, but I do not belong to you. I belong to myself first and foremost."

"Then is there no hope of changing your mind?" Guy feared the answer.

Mariella considered the question before responding, "I could marry you... one day. When I am ready and know in my heart and mind that it is the right choice, I could bring myself to give myself in matrimony, but not until then."

Guy dissected this statement very carefully. Within it he found the source of her difficulties. "Then you still have your doubts about me?" he asked, "You don't yet consider me to be the right choice?"

"How many times do I have to tell you, Guy?" she sighed, desperately trying to make him understand, "It's not you. It's marriage. I could spend the rest of my days with you if I only had the constitution to make such a commitment, but as it stands I'm afraid that I must say I do not. It is not you that I fear. It's the changes that marriage might bring. I'm just not ready."

A genuine sigh escaped Guy as he took her hands into his and gazed pensively down at Mariella. He knew in his heart that he couldn't change her mind. She needed time... and he would wait for her until the end of time if that's what it took.


	40. Pillow Talk

"I understand," he finally expressed, "I see now that it is a rather big step and I shouldn't rush you into it. Forgive me."

The corners of Mariella's mouth turned upwards slightly. "There's nothing to forgive, Sir Guy," she told him, "You should go to bed soon. You are tired and need your sleep. I will leave you to it."

"Stay," Guy pled as he caught her hand when she'd turned to leave.

"Guy.." she said softly, "Last night was a one-time occurrence. We can't make it a regular occurrence."

"I'm not asking for anything like last night," he stated matter-of-factly, "I am simply requesting that you stay with me tonight."

"It wouldn't be proper to make a habit of this..."

"No one is suggesting a habit. Just stay with me." With this request he pulled her to him, his face inches away from hers, his mouth relaxed and appealing, his eyes taking her in with a tender longing.

"I should really go," she repeated, but he was only drawing her in.

"Stay," he said again as he began to undo the lacings of her dress.

From this point there was no argument on Mariella's part. As Guy calmly worked to strip Mariella of her clothes, Mariella began her task of helping Guy out of his. Their garments fell piece by piece to the cold, hard floor until finally they stood before each other, their bodies exposed to the night's dark air.

Mariella let her eyes wander down to Guy's chest, finding his definition and size rather enticing. Her hands wandered over his muscles, exploring every aspect of him. She paused momentarily near his stitches. She was relieved to see that she had done a decent job in mending him. He was healing nicely. Soon they would be nothing more than scars and memories. That's when her eyes spied something new, or rather, something old. It was an old scar on the shoulder of his arm. It looked like it had been a clean slice. Now her eyes searched for more, running her olive eyes over his body and finding traces of faintly discolored skin. Her brow furrowed as more and more began to show up. She ran her hand over them to make sure it was not a trick of the light or the fault of her sight.

Most had already smoothed over fairly well, but others she could feel as sure as he was there. "Guy," she spoke as she went down his right arm, "What are these?" She lifted his forearm and was faced with an detail of him she hadn't noticed before; he had a tattoo that resembled the head of a wolf.. "What's this?"

"Just an old tattoo," he explained.

There was another slash running through it.

"Where did you get all of these scars?" she asked as she released his arm and looked back up into his face.

"I can't say exactly," he admitted, "In my line of work, I can't keep track of every single one."

"How long have you been living like this, Guy?" Mariella was a bit concerned at this point.

"I don't care to think about it."

"Well, how much longer do you plan on going on like this?"

"I exactly have much of a choice, Mariella," he said remorsefully, "Once you acquire power there are many things that you have to do to keep it."

"Things like what?"

"Let's not get into this now," Guy evaded as he stepped away and went to sit on the bed, "I've told you before I don't like bringing that home with me."

"Fine," she huffed as she went about to sit on the opposite side of the bed, trying to let go of the issue but finding much difficulty with it.

"Besides..." he spoke as he turned in his spot to look back at her, "It doesn't really matter tonight." He went across the bed and positioned himself on his knees behind her. "What matters is us. We're together now. We should make the most of it."

When Guy placed his hands on her shoulders, chills ran down her spine. As he started to lightly run his fingertips up and down her bare arms, the chills intensified and suddenly grew warm.

"Tell me about your family," he solicited, "Your brother and sister have been stopping by the castle, asking where you are. Have they come to see you?"

"No," she answered, somewhat disturbed at the change of topic, "Did you tell them where I was?"

"I'm sorry, Mariella. I couldn't. We decided that it would be for the best if we kept this between as few people as possible."

"But they're my family. What danger could they possibly pose by knowing where I am?"

Guy took a moment to take this point into account. "I'll talk to the Sheriff."

"Thank you," she smiled as she turned her head over her shoulder, "You have no idea how much it would mean." The smile lessened slightly. "I missed them."

"They seem to very good people." As Guy said this, he put himself into bed, getting under the covers. Mariella followed, snuggling up next to him.

"That's how our mother raised us, to be good above all else."

"I'm sorry I couldn't meet her..." Guy commented as he saw a sort of fond nostalgia creep into her eyes. "Tell me about her."

"She was amazing," she recalled, "She raised us by herself for the most part. A few neighbors helped and, of course, there was Uncle Vasey. Other than that we were alone with her. She taught us what she knew-how to cook, clean, sew, heal, dance, sing... And she was very strong, too. She brought us over here, God knows for what reason, and she raised us in a strange country." Mariella paused to sigh. "She was my role model. Still is."

"All of this, raising three children, by herself?" Guy pondered, "She never had any permanent help? Never a husband? Any sort of man in her life?"

"I don't know," Mariella admitted, "She would never talk about it. My brother once told me that he and Arianna shared a father... but he died. We aren't sure if they were married or not or how long he was around. Antonio was only a child when he last saw him, not old enough to remember him, but he says he remembers that he and Arianna had a father. I came from another man. I remember my mother would sometimes tell me stories of how he had gone far away to seek his fortunes so that he could care for us. Then she stopped telling those stories. She told me he had died. To this day I don't know who he was."

"What about your siblings? Don't they know? The must have noticed someone in your mother's life before you were born."

"If they know anything they won't tell me. They knew he didn't die. He left her. Neither of them could ever forgive him for that. This man who my mother cared for so deeply broke her heart. She never loved another man again. It's as if she was incapable. I think that's what made her so strong."

Suddenly, Guy thought he was beginning to understand Mariella's reservations towards him. She had watched her mother go through so much pain because of love and then forsake it for the sake of strength. It was no wonder she feared it.

"Mariella... What that man did was cowardly and cruel."

"She loved him, Guy." For some reason, Mariella was suddenly overcome with emotions. Her eyes began to tear. "She loved him and he left her. He left us. I'm already so much like her, Guy. What if-" She stopped. She couldn't say it.

"Do you think I'm going to leave you?" he questioned.

"Don't be ridiculous, Guy." Mariella tried to laugh. "You have a life here. If anything I would have to leave you."

Guy stared into her face, his mind working to decipher her secrets. "What are you so afraid of?" he asked, "What are you so afraid of that you can't tell me? Are you afraid my feelings will fade?"

"No." She knew he couldn't be the sort to so easily succumb to such feelings only to let them go.

"Are you afraid that I'll hurt you?"

"No."

"Are you afraid I won't make you happy?"

"No."

"Then what is it?"

"I'm afraid that this isn't real!" It was out and she couldn't take it back. "I'm afraid that I could be mistaken when I tell myself that this is real. How do I know? This is the first time I've been through anything like this. How do I know?"

In an attempt to comfort her, Guy took Mariella into his arms and held her tightly. "Does this feel real?" he asked as caressed her back.

"Yes."

He tilted her head up and craned down to kiss her. Her heart began to race.

"Was that real?"

"Yes," she breathed.

"This isn't a matter you can prove with facts or tell-tale signs. It has to be felt first. Once it is, what more do you need to know?"

His words struck a chord with Mariella. "Guy..." The simple sound of his name sent her heart into a flurry. "I think I..." She knew she felt it, she knew it was real, but still she couldn't say it. She was still afraid.

Luckily he didn't give her much more opportunity to say anything more. He kissed her gently and when she kissed him back all doubts between them vanished. Then, as if their thoughts were in perfect tandem, they began a maneuver so flawlessly executed it could have been choreographed. They spun together, Guy now on top of her, each heart synchronized to the beat of the other. They could physically feel emotions flowing between them. As they stared deeply into each other's eyes, they both knew that this wasn't going to just some wild act of carnality. This would be something so much more than either of them could have ever dreamed of.


	41. With Mariella

Their bodies writhed in perfect unison. They were no longer simply man and woman coming together in a single act. They were without gender, without identity, without physical form. Guy and Mariella were now two souls, not simply joining but fusing together, transforming themselves with one of the world's most powerful and ancient forces. In those moments, what they were was eternal. It was their souls that moved their bodies, not bone and sinew, and together they moved in flawless harmony. It was no longer a give and take, but a sharing of themselves which ended, not just in satisfaction, but fulfillment.

They laid together, panting and covered in a sweet and sticky coat of sweat. Guy kissed Mariella in attempts to preserve these moments, capturing them as he began to realize that a distinction was once again forming between him and her. However, even as it faded he felt something else replace it—a kind of devotion he had never known before. He stared into her eyes and felt assured that she felt the same.

Mariella wrapped her arms around Guy and smiled up at him. This was happiness. She stared into his eyes. He stared back and in his gaze, for the first time, she knew what it was to feel beautiful, like a goddess on earth.

She sighed in perfect contentment and closed her eyes, giving thanks to the universe for delivering such a wonderful man to her.

Guy rested his head on her chest and inhaled deeply, exhaling slowly and calmly as he regained himself. After a brief period of thought he lifted himself up again so that he was staring down at her. She was so peaceful and somehow managed to retain a quality of innocence about her, regardless of the night's activities.

She was perfection.

"Mariella," he whispered, causing her to open her eyes, "Will you stay with me?"

The question caught Mariella off guard. It was strange question to ask at this point. "Of course, Guy," she answered.

He nuzzled her cheek with his nose. "For how long?"

"That all depends on you, Guy," she explained as she turned her head as she tried to reestablish eye contact, "As long as you care for me and respect me, I'll be yours."

"And what if I fail you in some way?"

"There's no way-"

"What if I did, though?"

Mariella thought of an appropriate answer for this. "I would forgive you."

Guy let his head sink next to Mariella's. "Why did you have to be so perfect?"

Mariella reached up to tenderly stroke his hair. "Because you deserve nothing less."

After hearing this, Guy lifted his head. He seemed concerned. He sighed and removed himself from on top of her, taking his place beside her.

"How can you be so sure?" he asked as he stared at the ceiling, "I once told you that I wasn't a good man. I'm still not."

"It may not seem like it, Guy, but you are," Mariella assured him as she turned to look over at him, "You've already changed so much. You spared the lives of so many people yesterday. Doesn't that count?"

The Sheriff's list came to mind.

Over the last couple days, Guy had been adding to that dark collection of names, every entry representing an execution. What was most horrible about it was that the only guilt he felt over it was that he was hiding it from Mariella. Just today he had found five men and served them their unsavory rewards for their betrayal. Yet here he was now, in a soft bed with the warm body of a woman beside him.

Would she still want him if she knew?

Could she really forgive him as she said she would?

He turned his head to look at her and suddenly all was well. If he could place his faith anywhere, it would be with her affections for him. Simply by looking at her, Guy knew Mariella could no sooner stop caring for him than he could for her. Yes, the quarreled. They fought and at times couldn't understand one another, but staring into her lovely face, Guy knew that there was much more to them that overcame these differences.

They were as the sword and sheath.

The sword conquered. It cut deeply and killed relentlessly. However, the sword could also protect.

Guy wrapped his arms around Mariella and pulled her close.

The sheath never knows what the sword does, but offers a welcome home when needed and in turns keeps it out of harm's way.

They served two very different purposes, but they completed each other.

Mariella's breathing became slow and steady. She'd drifted off.

Guy kissed the top of her head and suddenly felt his heart become heavy.

He had never known a connection like this before, to have his other half, to be... complete. He felt he could no longer keep it in and now that she could not hear him, he felt it would suit him best.

He breathed deeply as mentally readied himself. After a few moments, he knew it was time. "I love you, Mariella," he whispered softly. Suddenly, he felt freer. No longer did the words weigh on his heart like a cross to bear. No longer did he feel them tearing him apart, demanding to be expressed. With the simple action of bringing them into the world, Guy felt as if he could say it a thousand times. "I love you…" he said again as he snugly reaffirmed his embrace, touching his chin to the top of her head, breathing in the sweet scent of her hair.

Then, much to his horror, he felt her head begin to move. Mariella lifted her gaze so that she was looking up at him, her twinkling eyes searching his features. Fear invaded Guy's soul.

"Guy," she said, her voice weak. He panicked. Nothing good ever came from that tone. The weight came crashing back down, heavier than ever before in his chest. "Guy… I…" He was anxious for her to continue, scared even… but when she did finally get the words out, it was the happiest moment of Guy's life.

"I love you, Guy."

Now Guy's heart not only was relieved of burden, but it seemed ready to soar right out of his chest. This was more than he could have ever wished for in his wildest dreams. To think that such an angel could love a monster like him made him feel something he thought he had lost long ago: hope.

He strengthened his arms about her as if this was all a dream, a fantasy that would soon vanish if he didn't hold on tightly enough. With his tight jaw set on top of Mariella's head, he tried to collect himself, squeezing his eyes closed and pursing his lips in attempts to stop the beads of joy that were trying to force themselves out of his eyes. Guy was happy, yes, but he wasn't about to let himself do a thing as silly as crying over it. Regardless of his attempts to preserve his dignity, a two little runners managed to escape, sliding across his eyes and down onto the pillow. He would allow those two. No more.

With Mariella, Guy could look forward to the future. He no longer had to fear a life of loneliness, of misery. With Mariella, he could have everything he ever wanted. He saw a future with this woman… and it was celestially bright.

Guy breathed her in and lost track of his heart as it burst with pure bliss. He loved her and he was no longer afraid to say it.


	42. Chess

After two days there were already nine names on the list of punished outlaws. As a final matter of business before bed, the Sheriff examined the entries and compared them to those on the record of known outlaws currently involved with the recently active band. They all coincided.

It appeared as though Gisborne had finally figured out how to do his job properly, much to the Sheriff's pleasure. If there was one thing the Sheriff of Nottingham liked it was when everything went according to plan.

All the pieces on the chess board were playing their parts beautifully against the opposing outlaws. Mariella, the sympathetic soul she was, was slowly gaining the attention of the peasants. They liked her, he had heard, especially since she used to be one of them. It allowed her to move about freely with no real power but that of social influence. One of these days the people might just come to love her, appreciate her, listen to her. When they did, Vasey knew exactly what he would tell her to say. Her support of the poor would one day be their downfall.

While Mariella was fairly simple to control, the Sheriff knew he had to be more careful with Gisborne. He was loyal, true, but the knave had his own agendas. Vasey liked to let Guy think that his plans were secret and unknown, but word got around amongst the servants and the servants told him everything.

There was not a populated place in Sherwood where he didn't have ears.

He'd known about Guy's advances for some time. What the Sheriff had to do was lead Guy in a roundabout method. By removing Mariella from the castle, he was better able to focus on his duties. By putting her in Locksley, the Sheriff was able to strengthen his control over his crony. As long as the Sheriff had Mariella to dangle in front of Guy, he would remain compliant and obedient.

However, now that Gisborne had asked for Mariella's hand in marriage, Vasey was beginning to feel his plans begin to turn against him.

Thoughts of these progressions actually struck a worried and almost paternal nerve with Vasey.

It was sad to say, but they were both the closest thing he had to family and while Mariella could be stubborn and unruly, he couldn't imagine any actual daughter of his being otherwise. As for Gisborne, he'd stood by his side for years now, even if he had been a total disappointment at times. When others failed him, betrayed him, or left him, Gisborne remained loyal. He was all right in his own way. That why, regardless of what the Sheriff knew about his habits with women, he trusted Gisborne with his ward. Guy knew how much Mariella meant to the Sheriff and he would never betray him for the sake of a quick roll or two, which concerned him even more.

When Vasey had first caught word of these sparks, these little advances, he had thought nothing much of it. He thought Guy was being a little overly friendly, a little flirtatious, which was fine until he had decided to act upon it. Oh, he'd heard of their little rendezvous, noticed their habit of going off alone together, their strange behavior in front of others. However, none of it had ever seemed serious. He had never expected a request for marriage.

It was probably passing foolishness on Guy's part. He was probably just frustrated having such a prize to taunt him. Poor man must have grown tired of looking and finally wanted to touch. After all, the Sheriff knew that Gisborne would never lay a finger on any property of his, especially after his recent warning.

If anything were to happen to her, he would punish the man responsible.

* * *

Guy left Mariella with much difficulty that morning. He was very close to not leaving at all, but he knew that in order to continue this wonderful affair, they had to avoid suspicion. So, giving her one last kiss, he said goodbye and went on his way.

For the rest of the day, Mariella floated about, glowing with absolute bliss. As she went around visiting the villagers, spreading this light around. Everyone seemed to have a brighter day because of the Lady Mariella.

Additionally, once her medicinal herbs were collected, she even went as far as to collect decorative flowers. She wanted to spruce the manor up; add a lady's touch.

When she'd found a vase, she tried her best to arrange the flowers she'd collected, but to no avail. She never had the best eye for creating beauty. She wasn't one of those crafty women, one who could who pursued the delicate arts of noble pastimes. She was built to labor. With that thought she looked around. No cleaning could be done. The servants saw to that.

She decided that if she simply dressed for work she would be inspired to do something, so she went to her room to dress. However, when she went to close the door she found a figure waiting behind it, making her jump back in fright only to find that it was a familiar figure.

"Antonio," she gasped as she tried to get breath back, "What are you doing here?"

"I should ask you the same thing," he retaliated, standing with arms folded and shoulders hunched.

"I was sent here by the Sheriff," she explained innocently, "for my protection."

"Something tells me that isn't all..." he said as approached her menacingly and for the first time Mariella feared her brother's anger. She felt as if she was doing wrong by him somehow and he was the only who knew exactly how.

"The Sheriff trusts Guy," Mariella went on, trying to defend herself, "He had to move me and this was the best place."

"I've heard things, Mariella," Antonio nearly accused, "Are they true?"

Mariella only had a vague idea of what he could be talking about.

"What have you heard?"

"Rumors… Very believable rumors," he said as he closed the space between them, nearly making Mariella shake with nerves, "Is it true that you've… _allied_ yourself with Gisborne?"

"I've done no such thing," she denied, "I may have placed a certain amount of loyalty with the Sheriff and consequently with Guy, but—"

"First name basis?" he pointed out, "Why is that?"

"He's my friend."

"What sort of friend?" Antonio went on, his tone transitioning from interrogation to persecution.

Mariella's eyes narrowed. "I don't appreciate your tone, brother. What does it matter to you?"

"You are my sister and he is a villain."

"And what if he is?" Mariella fought, quickly becoming agitated, "I am allowed to choose who I associate with."

Antonio's face went from anger to shock and then slowly melted into disappointment. "What happened to you?" he asked, "Mother would be so disappointed."

"I am making my own path," Mariella retorted, "just as she did."

"But her path was paved with goodwill. Yours… It's going in a dangerous direction. Be careful where you tread, Mariella."

The words soaked in deeply and slowly. "I can take care of myself, Antonio."

"Well, until you're sure of your loyalties, Arianna and I can't be sure of your trustworthiness. You've changed."

"What are you saying?" Mariella inquired, confused as to his implications.

"We can't support the Sheriff. We can't trust the Sheriff. Neither can we trust anyone who aligns themselves with him."

"Well then…" Mariella said in a quiet yet firm voice, "Here I thought that it was blood that ran thickest."

"Mariella…" Antonio sighed, "We will always love you. Never doubt that. But we are on opposite sides in this war."

"You too then?" Mariella turned her back on him and went to the window.

"I don't see why you are having trouble seeing what is so apparent to everyone else."

"Maybe because I see things that **aren't** apparent to everyone else."

"Or maybe you've just been completely blinded." He said this with a hint of sadness and loss.

"Why are you here?" Mariella asked again.

"We wanted to check on you," Antonio answered simply as he straightened, "We were concerned when you just… disappeared."

"How did you find me?"

"I have my sources," Antonio smiled but it faded quickly. "I should go. We'll be keeping an eye on you. We want you safe just as much as the Sheriff does… if not more."

"I'll be fine," Mariella assured him, "I'm in no danger under the Sheriff's care."

Antonio nodded. "Take care of yourself," he told her as he pulled her in to a familial hug.

She returned the gesture. "You too, Antonio. Try not to get yourself killed."

"One can only try," he chuckled as he headed towards the window, "See you, sis."

He jumped from the window, hitting the ground rolling, only to send himself back to his feet and into a run out of sight.


	43. Dreaming of Nightmares

**Author's Apology:** Sorry, readers. I've been having some trouble with my word processor and have been without it for a couple weeks.

* * *

The hunt was on. Five men on horseback after three on foot. The outlaws didn't stand a chance. However, Guy still kept a wary eye out for any of the traps that these men were usually so keen on setting. Fortunately, they'd caught them off-guard. That probably meant that there weren't going to be any traps so long as the fleeing men didn't lead them into any preset ones. Guy doubted they would get so far.

With a burst of speed two men raced forward ahead and cut the men off. The others completed the entrapment.

The outlaws were trapped like rats.

"Give it up," Guy called to them as his prey stood back to back, looking for some way of escape, "There's no point in running now."

Suddenly he felt a great weight fall on top of him, knocking him from his horse.

Reflexively and with a good deal of pain from his healing wounds, Guy caught the attacker and pinned him to the ground only to find moments later that he was a her.

"Laura, wasn't it?" Guy asked menacingly as he pulled out a knife and held it to her throat, "You and your friends have given us quite a bit of grief over the last few days."

"And you've been giving everyone else grief for the past few years, Gisborne," Laura replied with an acidic bite, "Don't you think it's about time someone put a blade through that black heart of yours?"

"I'd like to see someone try," he challenged as he picked Laura up and threw her towards her fellow deadmen. "Your names," he demanded, "What are they?"

"Why should we tell you?" one man asked.

"I owe you no explanation," Guy sneered, "Your names."

At first they were silent, until one of the younger, more scared ones gave in. "Brian Cooper of Nottingham."

A guard pulled out a piece of paper and jotted it down. The others looked at him, then to their friend. There was a key of doom in their comrade's answer. The others picked it up.

"Robert Cross of Rufford."

"Daniel Riley of Locksley."

"Joseph Quagmire of Mansford."

"And Laura Cooper of Nottingham." There were tears in Laura's eyes. She knew what was to come.

"Bind their hands and line them up," Guy ordered as his men came down from their horses and started getting into place. They knew the routine by now.

For the most part, they all seemed to resign themselves; they had known that this day might come. Robert was praying under his breath: "Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil for thou art with me. Thy rod and thy staff comfort me."

"That one goes first," Guy ordered, pointing to the praying man.

After having their hands tied the guards went to line them up, forcing them to their knees. Guy remounted his horse. His men took their places behind the outlaws and drew their swords. "Ready…" The head guard called. The men readied their swords for a swift, horizontal swing.

Laura blinked away her tears for one last curse. "Gisborne!" she called. The men paused and looked to their lord and master, who waited patiently for her to continue. "The truth will prevail. Justice will be served."

Guy took a moment to process these words. Then, with a nod of his head towards the executioners, he gave the signal for them to swing.

The bodies fell to the ground like ragdolls, their heads not far behind.

"Ready a fire," Guy ordered, "Get rid of the evidence."

As his men sprang into action, Guy stared at the female's fallen corpse. He had just killed a friend of Mariella's. He didn't know why, but he found himself closing his eyes and saying a brief pair in his head. So far he had carried out his duties without remorse. This time it wasn't so easy. The best he could do was block himself off. She was an outlaw. It was his job. She had to be killed. Mariella would never have to know.

It was only an hour later that the business was done and Guy had recovered his cold reserve. They returned to the castle with four more names on the list. The Sheriff seemed surprised. "That's three days in a row, Gisborne," he commented, "How exactly are you accomplishing all of this?"

"Drive," Guy answered simply.

"Well… you keep this up and those outlaws won't be bothering us for much longer…" the Sheriff went on, "Oh, and by the way… There's a clothmaker just outside of Radford who hasn't made any payments on his loans lately. Take care of it for me, will you?"

Guy awoke with a sudden start, surprised to find himself coated in a heavy sweat with a hellfire of a fever coursing through every sinew of his being. These symptoms mimicked a bizarre sense of fear, but as it began to die a fade it was gradually replaced with the burdensome and hefty weight of regret that not even the presence of Mariella could relieve.

As he stared up into the shadows of his bed's canopy, Guy relived the dream over and over again in his mind, contributing what was left of his humanity to the scene where before it had been absent.

In this darkness, the horror of his own actions began to slowly tear him apart. He turned to Mariella, seeking some sort of comfort from these tortures, but in the virtuous expression of her sleeping features, he only found more pain.

This beautiful woman who slept next to him every night and loved him unconditionally was completely ignorant to how wicked he really was.

He was lying to her.

What was worse was that he knew if she were to ever find out of his gruesome activities, she would be completely devastated. If she were to know what he really was, it would kill her.

Searching for a last sliver of relief, Guy reached for Mariella and went in to kiss her. With that small token, he found the solace he had been seeking, Mariella's kiss working a magic over him that nothing else had ever manage to surpass. Mariella stirred from her slumber at this sweet disturbance. Guy pulled away and stared down at his waking beauty.

Upon opening her eyes and seeing Guy over her, Mariella smiled, but it only took a moment of examination to realize that not all was well. "What's wrong?" she asked, seeing the mild distress in the furrow of his brow.

Guy sighed and let his head drop for a moment as he contemplated how or if he could answer her.

"Mariella…" he sighed, "Stay with me."

Now Mariella's face screwed into genuine worry. "Guy… What's wrong?"

"I'm no good, Mariella," he told her, "If you were wise you would go as far away from me as possible. A life with me would only destroy you in the end."

"Guy, you're confusing me," Mariella replied as she reached up to cup his cheek in her hand, "What are you trying to tell me?"

"Mariella…" he tried again as he tried to organize his thoughts, "You have revived a breath of humanity within me. You make me feel alive, a feeling I haven't felt in… a long time, but it comes at a price." He paused and took a deep breath, preparing himself to go on. "You don't know who… what I am. You can't imagine the things that I have done to gain this position in life. You need to trust me when I say I don't deserve you."

"Guy, how many times do I have to tell you?" Mariella rolled her eyes, "I know who you are. I know you're heart. I believe you when you say that you've done wrong, but I know that deep down you want to be good and that's what matters to me. I can forgive your past misgivings so long as you are penitent and maintain the kind and loving heart that I know."

Suddenly Guy went cold and returned to his side of the bed. "And if I wasn't penitent?"

Mariella turned her head to look over at him. "What do you mean?"

"I've said I've done bad things," he pointed out, "I never said I was sorry for them."

Mariella felt her heart begin to falter. "Are you not?"

The hurt in Mariella's voice broke Guy down again and the remorse returned. "Sometimes," he confessed.

"I don't want to talk about this anymore," Mariella choked as she pulled the covers up over her shoulders and turned her back to him, "We can talk about it more tomorrow."

This only intensified his guilt. Not only had he done unspeakable acts, he had hurt the only woman who could ever love him for what he was. He settled back into bed and closed his eyes. In a matter of moments he forced himself to swallow these complications and let himself drift into a dreamless sleep.

Soon, the haunts of the previous day's events returned to being just another memory—a murderous memory in which he inadvertently killed one of the love of his life's best friends.

What had he become?


	44. Plotting

"It's out of the question," Brock insisted, "She can't be trusted."

"Mariella is one of the most trustworthy people I know," Mark argued, "She would never hurt a fly and she's a friend to both sides."

"Yes, to both sides, including the Sheriff," Brock pointed out, "We need loyalty, not neutrality. Neutrality is dangerous for us right now. We can't afford to take chances and risk the fact that she might swing the other way and betray us."

"Mariella is on no one's side," Mark restated, "but she will always stand on the side of good. Maybe having her prod around would do us well, not only to gain information, but to finally gain her as an ally."

"We tried this before, Mark. It didn't work. We told her of the evils in the castle, in Sherwood. She decided to stand by her so-called 'family'."

"That's because she doesn't know any better," Mark defended, "If she saw for herself some shred of proof the true natures of these men, I don't think she'd be wanting to help them for much longer."

"I think he might have a point, Brock," said Antonio, who had otherwise been silent until now, "I know my sister, and there must be a reason she's standing idly by. She must not know about them."

"You put too much faith in her," Brock scoffed, "She's made her choice."

"That's still yet to be confirmed."

"She refuses to betray those damned villains," Brock argued, "She enjoys the status they've granted her. She's even residing in the house of the one who is no doubt seducing her."

"Hey!" Antonio interjected, his accent becoming a little thicker with anger, "You be careful. She's stronger than that. And as far as we know, she's refused him at every turn. Maybe this could be a ploy on their part to bring her to their side. It's an isolation technique. Guests, even prisoners, often begin to find their hosts agreeable people and friends after some time, especially when treated so well. They forget that they are even prisoners. We have to remind her. "

"How do you suppose we do that?"

"We have to get her back to the castle somehow," Antonio sighed as he began pondering methods to accomplish this, "She's too at home in Locksley."

"I've got an idea," Mark offered, "All I have to do is convince Gisborne it's what should be done." All ears listened intently as he detailed his plan.

* * *

It was another normal day in Locksley. The sun shone, regardless of the few clouds that hovered nearby. Workers seemed to toil away tirelessly while Mariella simply tried to find ways to keep herself occupied. Luckily for her, just as she was running out of amusements, she heard an entourage of horses approaching. Lightly, she stepped outside to meet it.

The party consisted of four castle guards, Guy of Gisborne, and the Sheriff himself, whom Mariella was delighted to see. "Sheriff!" she greeted warmly as Vasey stepped on the back of one of his men for means of a dismounting block, "What a pleasant surprise! What brings you to Locksley?"

"Gisborne and I were just doing a few errands in the area, so I thought I'd stop by. Hope you don't mind."

"If Sir Gisborne doesn't mind then I certainly can't," Mariella stated plainly, "It is his manor, after all."

"I just meant that I hoped I wasn't interrupting your afternoon," the Sheriff smiled cordially, "You weren't in the middle of something?"

"No," Mariella denied, "I wasn't. I must admit that it is a little difficult to keep myself occupied when I'm not permitted to leave the village. There's only so much I can do."

"You're not bored, are you?"

"Not so much as I am idle. I suppose it could turn to boredom soon."

"Is there anything I can send you?"

"Some company would be nice. Maybe tell my brother and sister where I am?"

"I'm sorry, Mariella, I can't do that," Vasey denied with a frown, "It's for your own safety."

"Oh, surely Robin Hood must already know I'm here already," Mariella chortled, "I am told that this is his former manor, after all, and there's not much in Sherwood he doesn't already know."

"If that is the case, maybe I just bring you back to the castle," Vasey sighed, "Would you prefer that? You could have all the company you want within a fortress of stone and mortar."

As Mariella contemplated this offer, she let her eyes dart around in thought. For a moment, she even looked to Guy for help, but he was not looking at her. He would not look at her. In fact, he looked quite disconnected and aloof from her as he sat in his saddle. Something was wrong. She'd have to talk to him about it tonight.

"I'll have to think about that," Mariella half-answered, "Which would _you_ prefer, my lord?"

"Well, having you here, safe and out of the way does have its advantages, but I'd also sleep a little better if I knew what you were doing during your days… and nights."

His tone contained dangerous connotations, but Mariella tried to ignore them.

"I assure you, I'm doing well here," Mariella dodged, "Not even a sign of trouble on the horizon."

"Very well," Vasey nodded, "We can discuss this later. You should come to dinner at the castle tonight. Make sure to bring guards with you."

"Of course, sir," Mariella curtsied as the Sheriff stepped up on his lackey again and remounted his horse.

"Stay out of trouble, dear," he casually warned, "I'll see you tonight."

As they made their way out, Sheriff looked back towards his ward and saw her waving goodbye. Returning the gesture, he lifted a gloved hand and waved back. A smile appeared on her face. It seemed like a long time since he had last seen her smile.

"Are you sure she's not happy here, Gisborne?" the Sheriff questioned, "I figured she would be, having a live-in suitor." The joke turned out to be more painful than Vasey had anticipated. He was beginning to dislike the idea of his ward staying here.

"We hardly see each other," Guy responded, "She's usually already in bed by the time I return since I've been kept so late into the evenings recently." It was only half a lie. She always was in bed when he arrived home—his bed.

Of course, these late nights were no accident. It was precisely because his ward would be at Locksley waiting for Guy that he kept him so late, just so that they would never have the chance to see each other. "You're saying you would see each other more if she were in Nottingham?" he asked.

"I'm not entirely positive, my lord," Gisborne replied, "Is this really something we should be talking about, especially at a time like this?"

"You're absolutely right, Gisborne," Vasey admitted, "We can drop the whole thing." Besides the bad environment, the Sheriff wanted to think. At this stage in the game, he wanted to keep Gisborne and Mariella apart. He didn't want them growing too fond of each other. However, this presented a puzzle. He could either keep her at Locksley, unmonitored but away from Guy during most of the day, or he could bring her back to Nottingham where Mariella and Guy could have supervised interactions. It was a decision that he would have to ponder at a later point when he wasn't occupied with other business.

While the decision might have been difficult for the Sheriff, it had recently become all too easy for Gisborne. He had run into Sir Mark just the other day, at which point he was terrified to learn that Mark knew about his affections for Mariella. Fortunately he knew no more.

This was not what had rattled him, however. What had truly shaken him was the conversation they'd had.

"She's an amazing woman, you know," Mark had said.

"Yes. I'm aware."

"Do you really think you could make her happy, though?" Mark asked, trying to be as politely doubtful as possible, "I mean, do you think she could just accept you after she hears about the things that you've done?"

"Are you threatening me with something, Sir Mark?" Guy interrogated, not allowing himself to be scared by him.

"Not at all, Sir Guy," Mark dismissed, "All I'm saying is… If you truly care for her, do you really want to subject her to a life with you?"

"I don't have to stand here and listen to you insult me," Guy bit and walked away.

Even though Guy had already been having these thoughts, he'd been able to ignore them, telling himself that it was all a consequence of some type of guilt or insecurity, but hearing it from Mark only fortified the idea within his mind. He had to get Mariella out of Locksley. It would be the first step of removing himself from her life.


	45. Nottingham Supper

When Mariella arrived at Nottingham Castle, dressed and prepared for a lovely dinner with what was left of her family, she felt as if she was coming home, not because she favored the castle over the manor, but because of the company that awaited her inside.

Upon arriving she'd already known that Vasey and Guy would be present. What she hadn't known was that her siblings and their families would be too.

Arianna and her husband, Richard, were cheery as always. Antonio acted civilly for the most part, despite his resentment towards those present who were outside of the family. Vasey he'd never really liked. Guy he loathed with renewed gusto after learning of his courtship with Mariella. Still, he tried to keep any sneering and snide comments to a minimum, especially while his daughter, Maria, was present, but he could only take so many of the Sheriff's jabs at his profession.

"Should've known this was where'd you'd end up," Vasey commented while everyone knew where it was going, "Never did have any proper direction."

"And what are you trying to indicate is a proper direction?" Antonio questioned, "The direction paved with deceit and plotting?"

"If I didn't know any better, Antonio, I would think that you were cross with me," Vasey responded, his voice laced with warning, "May I remind you that I am the most powerful man in this castle, in this village, and, quite likely, in this forest? That is where my path led me. What did yours get you?"

"Self-respect."

"Please. All that requires is the inability to feel remorse or regret."

"Friends."

"Friends can be bought, traded, sold, and lost. Hardly valuable to someone as independently powerful as a sheriff."

Antonio met the Sheriff's every challenge with a fierce bravery, a kind that Mariella had never seen performed by someone simply sitting at a dinner table. In fact, he didn't even need to match his assailant's gaze. He carefully examined the nails of his right hand as if the matter was completely irrelevant and trivial. "There are many things in this world that cannot be bought, traded, sold, or lost, Lord Sheriff," Antonio sighed, "A loyal friend is worth ten men and will stay with you when all others have gone."

The Sheriff opened his mouth to respond, but was interrupted by the creak of the doors opening into the Great Hall. From them emerged a hasty-footed Dante, descending down the stairway to the private feast.

"I'm sorry I'm late, my lord," Dante greeted as he reached the floor and gave a bow to his host, "I was entertaining a dear friend of mine when I lost track of time."

Guy suppressed a scoff into his wine at the excuse; it was likely that this friend was of the fairer and more flexible sex.

"You're excused, Sir Dante," the Sheriff granted as he waved his hand as if to brush the protocol aside, "but while the food has gone cold, our conversation is just warming up."

"That suites me excellently," Dante grinned, his smile handsome and bright, "Only reason I ever come to such dinners is to talk with good friends."

Guy reached again for his goblet and took a drink of sweetened spirit, knowing that he would be in desperate need of some if he were to survive this evening.

Meanwhile, Dante took a seat next to Mariella, greeting her with that devilish smirk and twinkling brown eyes. Then he turned back to the Sheriff. "What exactly were you talking about?"

"Nothing of consequence," the Sheriff shrugged, "In fact, we were just about to change the subject."

"Yes, why don't we talk about the festival?" Arianna suggested, "It was very lovely, I must say. We have to thank you, Sheriff, for putting it on."

"I'm glad it was worth the trip," Vasey nodded, "It is such a long way to travel from Italy for only a few days of fun. Were you planning on staying long or…?"

"We have a friend close by," Richard said so as to assure him that they would not be any sort of burden, "We'll be staying with him for a period before leaving in a week or two."

"Who is this friend of yours?" Vasey asked curiously, "Do I know him?"

"Unlikely, my lord," Arianna chuckled, "He is but a local merchant."

"I can't know any local merchants?" Vasey chided as his lips became tight with frustration.

"Oh, not at all," Richard replied with apology in his voice, "She just meant that he is only recently established and not yet well known by anyone."

"Well, in that case, allow me to let you in on a little secret, Richard," Vasey prepared as he shifted positions so that he body angled itself menacingly towards his countering conversationalist, "Nothing happens in this forest without my knowing about it."

At this point in the game, Mariella told herself that she easily doubted that to be true; of course, this was just a guise that she put on for herself in order to comfort her own hopes that she would not be compromised more than she already was. Even now she kept faith that she could sneak at least some things by him.

The others were thinking similar thoughts, secrets weighting down the air about them, closing in on their keepers and threatening exposure with the treacherous pressures they applied. All remained silent to prevent anything from slipping in this delicate moment.

"That being said," Vasey sighed as he sat back in his chair, arms laying on the rests as he redirected his attention, "I believe Sir Dante has news to share with us."

"Well, it's not exactly news, my lord," Dante laughed lightly, "and I was hoping to say this in private but…" Here he stood to address the others. "I am a simple man," he said, "I don't need much and am glad that I live quite comfortably but this nice life is still a lonely one." All present suddenly became very attentive. Not a whisper was breathed. Not a heart dared to beat. "Mariella…" Here, the young lord turned to her and took her hand in his, urging her to rise. Like a fluid statue she complied, her face stark white and her dazzling green eyes wide. "Mariella, you are an exceptional woman. You are kind, caring, beautiful, and sweet. I would be honored if you would be mine."

Out of the corner of her eye, Mariella saw Guy clench his fist, bracing himself, miraculously maintaining control of himself by not jumping into some sort of retaliation on the spot. Instead, he forced himself to wait for a response. Everyone did.

It was well known by now that such a marriage would form an incredibly influential alliance, tying together two high-power positions into a syndicate of control. If she were to agree, which would be the dutiful thing to do, she would be helping the Sheriff cast another thread of his webbing empire.

"Go on, girl," the Sheriff urged with a smiling nod, "I think we're all waiting for an answer."

However highly anticipated it might have been, no answer emerged. Mariella searched herself for the proper response. Of course, she didn't want to marry Dante, but her options were quickly dwindling. Already she'd refused Guy and even now she could feel him slipping away from her. Dante was a proper nobleman who would provide her with comfort and good standing and there no promise could be given that any other offer would present itself to her ever again, especially one as good as this one. She couldn't stay with Vasey forever.

Yet, there she could not shake that small part of her that fought this man. Something within her screamed to say 'no'. Neither answer would suffice.

Unsure of what else to do, Mariella slid her hand from Dante's, her gaze lingering on him for another few moments before she turned and walked out of the room. No one moved as they watched her go. No one moved to follow her except with their eyes as she went for the door.

It was only when she was out of sight that Dante let his head hang, the siblings gave sighs of relief, the Sheriff an exhale of slight awkward disappointment. Guy rose to go after her, but was stopped by a word from the Sheriff.

"Careful, Gisborne," he warned with a raised finger and a purposeful look, "Very careful."

The relaxing of Guys formerly tense body signified an understanding of the Sheriff's words. Seeing that, the Sheriff lowered his hand and, as if released from some sort of magic hold, Guy went off after Mariella.


	46. Monster

She was halfway to the castle doors when he caught sight of her.

"Mariella!" he called as he doubled his pace towards her, but she didn't stop. "Mariella!" he called again, louder and with more insistence in his voice. Hearing that Guy was closing in on her, she sped up and practically raced for the door. Guy, now worried that he might lose her, followed suit and broke into an anxious run, swiftly closing the gap between them and catching Mariella just as she reached the door. He pushed it closed just as she was pulling it open.

"Mariella," he said again, his breath slightly uneven from the sudden outburst but his manner quite cross, "What are you doing?"

"I don't know if you remember, Guy, but Dante just proposed to me," Mariella answered harshly.

"And?"

His apparent indifference nearly killed Mariella. "And I'm not sure if I want to marry him," she answered, "You know I don't want to marry him."

"So?" he laughed lightly, not appearing to understand Mariella's dilemma, "Just because you don't want to marry him doesn't mean you shouldn't."

"What are you saying, Guy?" Mariella questioned, horrified at his strange behavior.

"He's rich, well off," he reminded her, his old contempt for the man shining through again, "Women seem to like him as much as he likes them. He could give you a home, a safe home. One where you could live comfortably and not be bothered by all of… this!" As Guys words began to slur, Mariella knew that Guy had partaken in a little too much wine that evening.

"You're drunk," she voiced, wanting to reach out and steady him but a strange fear preventing her from doing so, "You don't know what you're saying."

"I know exactly what I'm saying," Guy informed, his voice becoming low and his eyes becoming dark as he stooped to look into hers, "I've been wanting to say it for a long time, too. You have to marry Dante, Mariella. Not me. Dante. You're a nice girl and I don't want you getting caught up with our lot. You have to get out otherwise this life will destroy you."

"Guy, come home with me," Mariella urged as she went to touch his face. He recoiled from her hand. "You need rest."

"I don't need anything!" Guy shouted angrily, the sudden change of heart making Mariella jump back, nearly knocking her to floor.

"What has come over you?" Mariella cried, fear spreading through her like poison from an arrow, making her eyes weep and her voice falter so harshly that she had to scream to get anything out.

"I am a monster, Mariella!" Guy roared as he harshly grabbed her wrist and yanked her to him, "It's about time that you realized that."

The next thing Mariella knew, Guy was dragging her down the corridors ignoring her pleads for him to stop, to let her go. He did not relent. He led her along, through the walls of stone and down into the darkest depths of the castle. The dungeon was poorly lit, but there was enough light to see by. Guy hurled Mariella forward, almost sending her crashing against the grate of a cell. As she caught herself she spotted two forms inside. One sat huddled, trembling in the corner, occasional whimpers escaping his lips. The other lay sprawled out across the floor, motionless and face down. It was then that Mariella saw the pools of blood that glistened on the dank and dirty stones, like glass spilling into dirt. Mariella stepped away from the door, a new terror filling her lungs as she searched for a scream.

Once she found her senses again, she found her breath and took a gasp of air, ready to release this fear, but Guy's hand caught the nape of her neck and killed the shriek on her lips as she was once again paralyzed with fright.

With a gloved hand, Guy pointed to the cell and in a menacing whisper told her, "I did that, Mariella. All of it. Every drop, every ounce, every broken bone. Can you still say that I am a good man? Can you still say that you love me?"

Streams of tears began pouring down Mariella's cheeks as her face screwed up in torment. It felt as if her body was being torn apart from the inside, wrenching itself to shreds, breaking and shattering into a thousand pieces and making her feel a pain that before that night she could not have imagined possible.

"Why are you doing this?" she sobbed, choking on the lump forming in her throat.

Then Guy's grip softened and he hung his head, no longer able to stand the sight of her pain. "Because this is what I am, Mariella." His voice was beginning to falter. She could hear torment in his words. "I hate myself for doing this to you, for hurting you, but I had to make you understand that the man you thought I was is nothing more than a damned monster. You have to marry Dante."

Staring down at those men, frightened beyond words, Mariella was at a loss for anything but the desire to flee from that place. She ran from Guy's touch, racing up the stairs and back into the light of the upper levels, collapsing against a wall as her head began to swim and her tears fell down, soaking her face, her neck, her dress. Wiping the tears away she gave a few more whimpers and then a wail, her screams echoing through the castle, filling it with despair.

The dinner posse was there in a matter of moments. The men were the first to arrive on the scene with Arianna and Mary trailing behind.

"Mariella, dear, what is the matter?" the Sheriff asked as he kneeled down next to her, placing gentle hands on her shoulders for comfort.

"I want to go to bed," was all she said as she violently swiped at the tears that refused to stop, a dark cloud coming over her heart.

"Of course, but what happened?" the Sheriff pressed as he helped her to her feet.

"My room, Uncle Vasey," Mariella snapped, refusing to give him a word of satisfaction, "I want to go to bed."

"Mariella," Dante cooed as he took a step towards her, but she only flinched at his motion.

"You stay away from me," she growled, a ferocity in her face that no person present, family included, had ever seen in her before. She was like a wild animal, cornered and angry. Those who knew her well exchanged concerned glances.

"I'll go with you," Arianna volunteered, but even she was cut off.

"No," Mariella denied, "Only Uncle Vasey."

Antonio stepped forward and tried his hand. "If there's anything we can do-"

"There is nothing you can do."

Mariella was granted a grain of relief once Vasey pulled her away from the others, helping her back to her room where she would be safe from words of comfort, from false faces, from false love. When Vasey left her, he knew to go without a word, knowing that a woman in scorn was a temperamental and dangerous power. That is exactly how Mariella felt, too.

A tempest was brewing within her, ready to desecrate anything in her path. Guy of Gisborne was its cause. That night, the illusion of any reality had shattered and she was still struggling with righting herself. The memory of those men burned in her memory and she couldn't stop imagining the things Guy could have done to spill so much blood.

The disguise was destroyed; now Mariella knew Guy for what he really was. He was a murderer, a tormentor, a villain. How could she have ever loved such a beast?


	47. Moving On

Arianna was set to return to Italy with her husband. Mariella managed to leave the isolated confines of her room long enough to see her off.

The wind had picked up and majestically waved the proud banners of Nottingham Castle. Vasey was there too. He had thought it only right to say goodbye. After all, long ago there had once been a time in a far off land when he had held each of Rosalie's children in his dearest regards. He embraced her, like he would one of his own, and then shook Sir Richard's hand, giving them a few terse lines of farewell and well wishes. He was never one for long goodbyes.

Next, Mariella took her turn with her sister, taking her hands and trying to keep her smile even as she felt her heart rupturing into two weighty pieces. "I wish you didn't have to go," she confessed, the words allowing for the dam behind her eyes to give just little, allowing for a melancholy sparkle to appear in her eyes.

"I know," Arianna smiled as her own wells began to overflow, "but we have stayed long enough and we must return soon if this child is to be born at home."

"I understand," Mariella nodded as she squeezed Arianna's hands a little tighter, "I wish you a safe passage."

"And I wish you a happy life here," Arianna grinned as she went to wipe away the tears that were not beginning to flow from Mariella's eyes, "Make the best of it. Make it yours. And above all else, remember: Time heals all wounds… but a little wine can heal them better."

Mariella laughed at the old joke, remembering that their mother had often applied the spirit to some of the nastier wounds she encountered to help clean it. It always hurt when it touched the injuries, but it often left them cleaner.

"You'll be okay, right?" Arianna checked as she went to wipe away the bit of sadness stuck in her eyes. She knew she had to be strong for Mariella.

"I'll be fine," Mariella assured her, "Besides, now that you're going, I'll have to watch out for Antonio, right?"

"Right," Arianna said even though in the back of her mind she knew that even their brother would be soon departing. Mariella didn't have much time left with any of her family. Of course, she couldn't tell her that now. It would only ruin the little happiness she had left.

"Darling," Richard interrupted as he stepped over to the two women, "It's time."

"Yes, of course, dear," Arianna acknowledged with bittersweet calm in her voice. Turning back to Mariella, she searched for the words to say, knowing not when she would next see her sister. Unable to find anything else, she pulled Mariella close and held her tightly. "Goodbye, sister."

"_Goodbye, sister_," Mariella responded in their native tongue as she firmly held her sister, weeping into her shoulder.

Arianna pulled away suddenly and turned to get into the carriage. As Mariella watched her walk away, she didn't turn back; not so much as a glance of farewell. Arianna feared that if she had taken that last look, it would have been the last she would see of Mariella.

* * *

That night, Mariella sat on her window sill, alone in the moonlight that streamed through her bedroom window, a glass of wine in her hand and a half empty bottle not far away. The loss of her sister had pushed her to the point of taking that old joke seriously, desperate for some kind of relief. She took a sip of the bitter drink and wiped at her eyes that refused to stop running. Today she had lost a sister.

She took another sip and the sadness converted itself into a burning anger as another loss re-entered her mind. A few days ago, she'd lost the love of her life to reality. Mariella hadn't spoken to Guy since that night, nor did she plan to do so any time soon. Now Mariella knew him to be the foulest, most heartless man she had ever known, leading her into his arms with words of deceit and treachery. Had he simply told her the truth in the beginning she would still be a…

Mariella broke into a painful sob as she remembered her foolishness, giving herself to this wretched demon based off of a few heart flutterings and misguided judgments. Curling into herself, Mariella couldn't stop the flow of tears. This release only allowed for the hurt swell and grow and outside she could hear the occasional whimper echoing off the courtyard walls and coming back to her as a reminder of the pitiful soul to which she had been turned. Covering her mouth with her free hand, she tried to quell the hideous noises in hopes that she would at least not disturb anyone else with her disgusting choking. In a fit of rage, she flung her goblet out the window, hearing its soft clang on the dirt below.

Little did she know, she had already been heard. Down below, Guy of Gisborne paid audience to Mariella's cries and every whimper felt like a lance through the chest. The pain of knowing that this was his doing was killing him. He hadn't slept for days. He denied all food and drink and could think of nothing else but Mariella.

The past two days had been the worst hell of his life and he kept telling himself that it would all one day pass, but every moment that he was without her, he only grew weaker, not stronger. Now, hearing the effects of what he had done to her, his resolve became weaker than ever. Clutching at his chest, he could feel his heart breaking and he wanted to cry out, 'Mariella! Mariella! My sweet, darling, Mariella!' He wanted to take her into his arms and tell her that everything would be all right. It tore him apart to hear her so miserable. Still holding his chest, he let himself lean against the nearby pillar for support, easing himself down to the ground, sinking into his own despair.

Tilting his head back against the stone, he searched the darkness for some sort of strength but could find none there. Guy covered his eyes with his hand as he began to weep for Mariella, whispering over and over again: "I'm sorry."

After a few tears, Guy forced a stopper onto the stream and tried to regain his dignity as he wiped away those shameful droplets away. He hated himself, but he knew that it was the best thing for Mariella. She never would have been happy with the real him and allowing her to chain herself to him knowing him in any other way would have been a love based on lies. He wouldn't have been able to live with himself, lying to her for the rest of his days. He had done the only thing he could have. It was for her own good.

However, the sound of her cries renewed his self-doubt. When the cup hit the ground, however, his self-restraint was shattered. Turning and peeking out into the courtyard, seeing the chalice laying in the dust, he knew what he had done was wrong. Slowly he stood, careful of his nearly-recovered injuries, and approached the item.

The wine lay splattered like blood on the ground where the now empty and lifeless vessel had spilled it. Crouching down, Guy picked up that cup and examined it a little closer. The fall had left a great dint in it, but it was left intact and unbroken. A weaker material would have cracked, but this one remained whole—a little less desirable, perhaps, but still whole.

Cup in hand, Guy ran towards the main entrance and went inside. Finding the staircase, he bounded up it, taking three steps at a time, then racing down the hall he stopped at her door. Inside the sound of woe was replaced by silence. The tears had stopped. That silence was a calm he no longer had the courage to disturb.

Guy looked at the goblet he held in his hand, staring at it, his gaze burning in to it. The longer he stared at it, the more he came to understand that she wouldn't want this back. Having stared long enough, Guy lowered it again to his side, turned, and left the way he came. It was clear to him now that no one, not even Mariella, would want a damaged piece.

* * *

Mariella woke up the next day, the knowledge of what she needed to do clear in her head. She rose from her bed, still fully clothed, and rushed out of her room, navigating the halls with a clear purpose in mind. Within minutes she was at his bedroom door, where he stayed when he didn't return to his usual lodgings. With a powerful and insistent rapping, she knocked on the heavy wood and continued doing so until the door opened.

Without hesitating, she pressed her lips to his before she could lose her nerve. He was, of course, surprised by the action but also very pleased.

Then, just as she sensed he was about to enjoy it too much, Mariella pulled away to keep both of their heads clear. "I wanted to accept your earlier offer," she told him, her head held high and her shoulders squared with confidence in the face of this brash and sudden decision, "I will marry you."

Dante was still having trouble recovering from such a pleasant surprise, his bare chest heaving up and down with satisfaction. With a handsome smirk, he finally found himself again. "I am very happy to hear that, love," he replied, "Give me a minute and we can go inform the Sheriff of the happy news."

Happy news indeed. If Mariella couldn't have love, then she would at least have security.


End file.
